


thirteen

by CapnWinghead



Series: Nanny AU [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Nanny, Batfamily (DCU), Kid Fic, M/M, Major Character Injury, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Clark Kent, Secret Identity, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnWinghead/pseuds/CapnWinghead
Summary: Drowning in student loans, Clark Kent takes a summer job as the Wayne family nanny.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: Nanny AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813435
Comments: 142
Kudos: 1099





	thirteen

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was a pretty random idea. To tell the truth, it was all centered around the idea of Clark Kent coming in to care for these kids that were all isolated from the rest of the world and not really sure how to interact with other children. 
> 
> It's an AU in that Clark was never Superman. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Wayne Manor painted a deeply dark and mystifying figure in the daylight.

Clark’s hand tightened on his bag strap as he forced himself forward. One foot in front of the other. His mother hadn’t raised a coward. Besides, he’d found the ad and agreed to the vetting process. Two in depth background checks, a voluntary blood sample and thirty references later, he was standing in front of a house that he could fit his childhood home inside, seven times over.

When he knocked on the door, the sound seemed to echo, trailing on forever. A chill washed over him, the trees rustling in the breeze. He heard quiet footsteps nearing the doorway. Even behind the wood, the shoes sounded expensive. The door opened with a low groan and an older man appeared, buttoned up in a dress shirt, vest and dark slacks. Clark suddenly felt under dressed in his t-shirt and jeans.

He cleared his throat, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “I, uh, I’m here about the babysitting job.” The older man stared at him, his face startlingly expressionless. “Um, for the Wayne children? Richard and Jason and—”

“Richard!” a voice called out, devolving into giggles. There was the sound of rubber squeaking on the marble floors as a small boy ran past, nearly bowling over an older boy with messy black hair.

“No one calls me Richard,” the older boy said, a smile on his face as he moved to stand beside the older man. He grabbed the man’s wrist, peering over it at Clark curiously. His eyes were a bright blue, glittering in the light from the fixture above the foyer. “Who are you?”

“Master Grayson,” the older man chided. “That is not how you speak to a guest.”

“But he’s not a guest, is he? He’s going to be working for us.” The tone gave Clark pause briefly, a little off kilter. He couldn’t imagine believing his former babysitters worked for him.

“This gentleman is going to be your au pair. He will be employed by your father, not you. You will speak to him with respect.”

“Yeah, _Dick_ ,” a voice said. The sprinter had returned, a smug grin on his face as Richard turned to glare at him. The new boy had band aids on both knees and one on his elbow. The older man cleared his throat and the boy huffed, “That’s his name!”

At the pointed stare he received, the sprinter marched off, muttering under his breath. Dick shrugged, returning to Clark with a grin. “That’s Jason. Ignore him. He gets grumpy a lot.”

Clark nodded, adjusting his glasses. He returned to the older man. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“And I didn’t give it,” he replied. He straightened up, holding out his hand, “Alfred Pennyworth. I’ve served the Wayne family for many years.”

His grip was very firm, his expressionless demeanor never wavering. Clark wasn’t sure if that was a bad sign or not but, at the moment, Clark really envied his ability to remain stoic in the face of every distraction.

“Nice to meet you.” He hunched his bag higher up on his shoulder. “Is there somewhere I can settle in, or…?” he trailed off, nervous fluttering in his stomach.

“Follow me,” Alfred said, letting Clark pass and closing the door behind him.

Clark followed him through the foyer, gazing up at the high vaulted ceilings. There were such detailed patterns carved into the aged wood, heavy, gleaming golden chandeliers and sconces that had probably been a part of the Manor since the 1800s. The furniture in each of the many rooms belonged in another era; one much more refined than the current one. Chaise lounges and stiff couches upholstered with materials that probably cost a fortune to repair. It was a wonder in a home filled with so many children.

Wayne Manor was not only a sight to behold, a fixture in New York real estate – it had appeared in several architectural magazines. The sheer history etched into every board, every panel of wood, every light fixture imported from France. The Waynes were Gotham royalty and every generation had saw fit to add a little touch of glamor to the home. Passed down from family to family, it had endured floods and fires and small additions to their family.

Bruce Wayne was the first in the line of Waynes to have more than two children. A business man, he spent most of his days running Wayne Enterprises and managing the Wayne Foundation’s charity functions. Having lost his parents under such tragic circumstances, it was no wonder he’d taken to hosting galas to raise money for St. Mary’s Orphanage in Gotham. It was here he’d met Dick Grayson.

Not long after having lost his parents, Dick had been a ward of the state. Bruce had taken him in, gave him a place to stay. When the trail for John and Mary Grayson’s murder went cold, Bruce adopted him. The press went crazy – snapping up pictures of Gotham’s resident bad boy trading nights on the town for nights in reading bedtime stories.

Not much was publicly known about Jason Todd or how he came to be in Bruce Wayne’s care. Clark always got the sense that Mr. Wayne wanted it that way. One day, it was just Dick beside Wayne in pictures. The next, Jason just appeared. At first, snarling and rather unhappy to be there. Over time, less surly and more baffled by the whole thing. Cleaned up and stuffed in suits far too stiff to be comfortable but his hair remained a mop of unruly brown hair atop his head. Not as long as Dick’s, trailing down to his shoulders but Jason always looked as though he’d refused any mention of a haircut.

Tim Drake was a sad story. Everyone knew of what had happened to his mother, held hostage and later poisoned. His father was later killed in their home, where Tim had been present at the time. Bruce Wayne quietly took Tim in and he never appeared in any press photos beside his brothers aside from glimpses of them entering restaurants or Wayne Enterprises. Tim was almost always seen with his youngest brother Damian.

Cassandra Cain was a child Clark had actually never been aware of until he received the offer to come do at trial run with the children. An encrypted email sent to his personal email provided an operations manual of sorts for taking care of the Wayne children. It included everything from important health notices such as Jason’s asthma and security concerns such as the protocol for any sort of break in or kidnapping attempts. Among this information were detailed sections on taking care of each child, along with Cassandra. She had been taken in when she was six years old after surviving a severely abusive home. There was no information on how she’d met Bruce, when he’d taken her in or who her parents were. Only that she was very quiet and quite reclusive. The manual included a list of her common hiding spots. There were approximately forty-seven of them.

Damian Wayne was the last entry. Of the children, he and Cassandra were the only ones known to use Wayne’s last name. Damian was the youngest, fourteen months old. He was Wayne’s only blood related child and, under no circumstances, was Clark to allow the child’s mother to visit without Wayne’s approval. Damian was pictured in Tim’s arms in several pictures, almost never crying. Of all of the children, it would appear he was spoiled the most but the manual laid out that he too had survived a rather abusive upbringing.

Walking the halls of the manor, it was hard to believe a single child lived here, let alone five. The floors were pristine, the walls covered in portraits and art works professionally made. There were no signs of spills or children’s artwork stuck to the fridge or toys littering the floors. Almost as if the children were kept in a small child zone in a secret compartment of the house.

Alfred stopped in the kitchen, gesturing to the table. “You arrived just before lunch time. I will be preparing grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for the children. We eat as a family around the table so you will need to fetch Cassandra shortly.”

Clark nodded, tempted to take notes but he figured Alfred already wasn’t very fond of him. For reasons Clark wasn’t entirely sure. He set his bag down on the counter, forcing to keep his face blank as Alfred’s chin raised a bit. “Anything I can help with?”

Alfred blinked at him slowly. “You can fetch Cassandra.”

“Right,” Clark replied, leaving the kitchen.

He paused for a second in the doorway, watching as Alfred picked up his bag and hung it on a hook by the backdoor. Shaking his head, Clark moved down the hallway. He’d hoped to run into Dick. Surely, he would help Clark find his sister. He moved down the dimly lit hallways when he heard a loud cheer and a heavy jingling noise.

“You got it, Dickie!” Jason cheered. That couldn’t mean anything good.

Clark raced towards the voices and skidded to a stop, heart in his throat. Dick had somehow launched himself from the top of the stairwell onto one of the chandeliers, swinging back and forth above Clark’s head.

“Oh my God, get down from there!” Clark shouted, darting left and then right, stopping in place as he tried to figure out what to do.

Dick and Jason devolved into giggles, echoing in the large room. Dick covered his mouth with both hands, leaning back where he sat on top of the light fixture. Clark’s heart skipped a beat, arms stretching out reflexively.

“Dick, how did you get up there? Come down, right now!”

“Why?” Dick asked, kicking his legs out so the chandelier would swing in a wider arc. “S’fun!”

“It’s dangerous! Do you know how high up you are?”

“Relax,” Jason drawled, leaning over the banister. “Dickie does this kinda stuff all the time.”

 _All the time?_ “That doesn’t mean it’s safe,” Clark said, letting out a slow breath. It would do no good to let himself get stressed out. The kids could hear it and if they weren’t worried before, the tension in his tone would only worry them. “Alfred’s making lunch. You’ll have to come down for that, won’t you?”

Dick frowned, thinking this over. “What if I’m not hungry?”

“Then I guess you can wait and eat whatever’s left over later. It’ll probably be Brussel sprouts and maybe some cauliflower. All the squash you can eat,” Clark mused aloud. “We’ll make sure to leave you plenty of vegetables.”

“Yuck!” Dick shouted, swinging backwards far enough to leap towards the banister. Clark froze for a second, stark fear creeping in before he raced forward, arms outstretched. Dick landed with a thud on the wooden banister, hauling himself over it with little aplomb. His footsteps thundered down the stairs, Jason following close on his heels.

“I like number twelve, Jay,” he said as he leapt off the last three steps and raced into the kitchen.

“Number thirteen, D.”

It wasn’t until Clark had climbed the stairs that he realized what they meant. Clark was lucky number thirteen. The thirteenth person to try to tame the Wayne children.

God help him.

+

When Clark reached the second level, he heard a quiet babbling from room down the hall.

He followed the sound, peeking into the rooms he passed to find them all empty. Alfred hadn’t asked him to fetch Tim or Damian. Were the kids on a set schedule? Did they miss out on food if they were late to arrive? Certainly not. There were ways to teach punctuality but no father who put together an eight-hundred-page manual on his children would punish them by withholding food.

Did Alfred round them all up come meal time? That seemed to be a lot of work for a man his age.

As he neared the quiet babbling, it came to a halt. Clark peered into the room at the end of the hall to find a nursery, bathed in a bright and sharp green. A toddler stood up in his crib, staring at Clark curiously as a seven-year-old leaned over whispering to him. Upon hearing Clark’s approach, Tim turned around with a frown.

“You must be twelve.”

“Thirteen,” Clark corrected and then cut himself off. “I’m Clark, I mean. My name is Clark. I’m going to be your new babysitter.”

Tim picked Damian up, appearing almost too big for the kid’s spindly arms. “We don’t need a babysitter. Jason has Dick and Damian has me. We’re just fine.”

“I don’t think so,” Clark said, the words giving him pause.

“We don’t pay you to think.”

Clark was more startled than offended. He laughed, scratching at the back of his head. “I’m aware of that, but you’re seven years old. You know what I was doing when I was your age?”

“Learning how to read?” Tim asked blandly.

Biting down a smile, Clark replied, “I was playing. Outside. With other kids.” He ducked down to meet Tim’s eyes. Damian looked to Tim curiously, his mouth instantly firming up in a scowl to match his big brother’s. Although, it was a little less effective with the drool on his chin. Clark wiped at it with his finger, freezing when Tim twisted, pulling Damian away. Clark tried a different tactic. “You know, I wish I had as many siblings to play with when I was growing up. I was an only child.”

Tim’s frown lessened, his eyes widening. “I was an only child.”

“You know something else, I was adopted, too.”

“You were?”

“I was. My parents took me in when I was a baby. I actually never knew my birth parents.” He smiled, earning a tentative one in return. Damian was back to babbling quietly, tugging on Tim’s shirt. He touched his mouth twice, staring up at Tim intently.

“Okay, okay, it’s almost lunch time. C’mon,” Tim said, carrying Damian out of the room. Clark was rather concerned about him carrying a baby down the stairs but he still hadn’t found Cassandra and he half wondered if trying to take Damian out of Tim’s arms would only put him back in the doghouse.

He left the nursery and searched the other rooms. Finding no one, he checked the bathrooms, the library, even a few closets. He walked the halls, “Cassandra? My name’s Clark. Alfred sent me to come get you for lunch.” No response.

“I’ve heard you’re really good at hiding. Your dad made a list of forty-seven hiding places. I’m betting there are more, huh?” he called out, scanning the darkened ceilings. “You’re really good at climbing and moving quietly through the house. I bet you know all the noisy floorboards, too.”

There was still no response and Clark could hear the children getting louder in the kitchen. “It’s lunch time now and I bet you’re getting pretty hungry.” He moved towards the landing, tapping his fingers along the wooden banister. “You come down when you’re ready, okay?”

When he entered the kitchen, Dick, Jason, and Tim were gathered around the table as Alfred passed out sandwiches. Damian sat in his chair eating pieces of banana. Every now and then Tim would pass him more. In his limited experience, Clark had never seen a kid Tim’s age quite as dedicated to taking care of an infant. Maybe he believed his siblings should be paired for some reason. Didn’t explain Cassandra, though. Did she spend all of her time alone?

Clark moved behind the stove top, following Alfred as he put the soup into bowls. “Anything I can help with?”

“Is there?” Alfred asked, balancing three bowls as he moved back to the table.  
  
There was a fourth set aside on the counter. When Clark turned around, a small, thin girl sat next to Damian. She ran a hand over his head earning a gummy smile. When she noticed Clark was looking at her, she brightened. Her hands moved in a motion and Clark laughed quietly.

 _Sixty-one_ , she signed, the corner of her mouth turning up.

+

Despite a rather tumultuous first day, Clark returned for the next.  
  
The door opened and Clark didn’t see anyone at first.

“Oh, s’you,” a small voice said. Clark looked down to find Jason holding the door open, scratching at a smear of paint on his nose. “You came back.”

Clark tried a smile, “I don’t scare that easy. Should you be opening the door without—”

“Master Jason, what have I told you about answering the door?”

“But it’s not a stranger, Al and you were upstairs with the demon spawn—” Alfred quieted him with a look. Jason grumbled and took off up the stairs.

Clark looked to Alfred, smiling sheepishly. Alfred wiped his hands on a washcloth and turned around. “Come in, then,” he said.

+

The day passed in a blur. As did the following weeks.

Clark quickly tried to learn the ways of Wayne household. Days spent inside following Alfred’s daily schedule.

Wake the kids up at eight thirty and get breakfast on the table. Seemed simple enough but that early in the morning, tempers flared hotter than usual. Even Dick could be provoked into picking a fight and Clark had ended more than one meal with some sort of cereal or oatmeal down the back of his shirt after getting caught in the crossfire.

Then it was a morning spent however the kids saw fit. Usually, they spent time alone. Dick practiced gymnastics, Jason camped out in the library, Tim buried his head in a book or a circuit board, Damian either followed him around or took a nap and Cassandra disappeared. They could usually be rounded up for lunch time where everyone was usually in better spirits.

Then another afternoon spent however the kids saw fit. Trying to get them to nap usually didn’t work out. Sometimes Clark played hide and seek with Dick and Jason. Sometimes he helped Tim with his science experiments. Sometimes he camped out with Cass in her hiding spots and told stories. Then Clark left for the day. It seemed fairly easy on paper but Clark spent most of his days trying to keep the kids from killing themselves or each other.

Some of Cassandra’s hiding places were high enough up that Clark feared she’d slip during an unplanned nap, fall and break her neck. Jason liked the books on the highest shelves and didn’t have any regard for whether he used the ladder to fetch them. Dick climbed on anything and anyone and appeared to think he was invincible. Tim buried his hands inside anything with wires and didn’t sleep until exhaustion set in. And Damian… well, he appeared the safest of them all but that was partly because Tim made sure of it.

Truth was, Clark ended every single day feeling as though he’d gone to war and only managed to stave it off for one more day. He went home covered in paint and food and grease and dust (and sometimes plaster). He was sore and worn down and just wanted to sleep for days. He had no earthly idea how Alfred had managed to handle the workload on his own for so long. It was exhausting.

And yet every time Clark thought he couldn’t take it anymore – that he was simply too tired, too gullible or too much of a pushover – every time he thought he would have to turn in his two weeks notice and find some other way to cover his student loan payments, the most amazing things would happen.

Dick would nail a perfect twisting layout and yank Clark into a hug, sharing his joy. Clark would find Cassandra in the rafters and she would flash him the sweetest smile that would warm him from the inside out. Jason would sit down beside him at lunch and share bits and pieces of the book he was excited about reading, his face opening up with every detail as he grew more and more animated. Tim would trust Clark to hold Damian and babble to him distractedly about whatever he was working on. There were even times when Alfred would ask Clark to do something without seemingly doubting that he could do it.

Every time Clark found himself ready to throw in the towel, the family would show him in some small way that they’d come to trust him. And then he couldn’t do it – he couldn’t quit because he didn’t want to lose that.

+

Clark returned the next day and the next and the next until four weeks had passed and Alfred finally stopped treating Clark with that muted look of surprise every morning.

He’d quickly learned that Dick was the easiest to butter up. Whether it be out of curiosity or trying to make Alfred and Clark’s lives easier, he helped out from time to time. He made up games they could all play like pillow tag in the playroom. It didn’t run the risk of Damian being left out and it meant anyone falling down would land on carpet and not the hardwood throughout the rest of the house. Occasionally, he was able to convince Tim to take naps when Clark never could and he was the one that told Clark where to find Damian’s stuffed animals.

Tim wasn’t so much standoffish as he was reclusive. He spoke when spoken to but the only person he willingly sought out was Damian. He rarely raised his voice unless Jason felt like tormenting him that day.

Jason was the hardest nut to crack and he seemed to pride himself in that fact. He was combative and reckless and placed very little value in his own safety.

Alfred’s methods of discipline were mostly quiet looks of disapproval, which were pretty effective. Clark tried redirection and calm intervention. He never yelled. He never even raised his voice. There were times when he thought for sure Jason expected him to; even wanted him to. He seemed almost dissatisfied when Clark refused.

Cassandra was still an enigma. He’d taken lessons in ASL in college and it was clear Bruce had set her up with a tutor in the language. The only time she spent time with the others was when Tim put on a documentary about the New York Ballet and the few times Duke Thomas and Stephanie Brown came over.

Bruce’s manual hadn’t mentioned them so Clark assumed they were allowed in. Alfred never dissuaded it. In fact, he appeared rather charmed by the both of them. Duke always brought Disney movies, most of which the children hadn’t seen. Stephanie often brought things for makeovers. It was during one of her visits that Clark realized Cassandra didn’t appear to own anything most girls her age had.

Stephanie managed to stick him in the chair at Cassandra’s vanity where she turned on the lights around the mirror and pulled out her blush. “I don’t know about this,” Clark began, eyes widening as she grabbed her brush.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!” Stephanie said with a grin, winking at Cassandra.

“I’m just not sure if it’s my color,” he replied and Cassandra stifled a giggle.

She stood side by side with Stephanie. Cassandra with her neatly cut, chin length black hair, dressed in a black top and black leggings. Stephanie with her blonde hair tied up in a bright purple scrunchie, earrings in her ears, bracelets jingling on her wrists, in an overall dress with a pink shirt underneath. Her bright purple finger nails and the mood ring on her thumb. Perhaps Cassandra didn’t have any of these things because she wasn’t interested in them? She had the only room in the manor with a vanity, save maybe the master (Clark still hadn’t been in there – it was forbidden during hide and seek). There were no jewelry boxes or bracelets laid out. No make-up or perfumes. Maybe Bruce thought nine was too young.

Maybe Bruce hadn’t thought Cassandra would be interested in things like this. She certainly seemed to find the concept fun. Maybe she spent a lot of time alone because Stephanie was the only one that really tried to bring her out of her shell. Most of the boys spent time doing things they liked – and these things happened to be things their brothers liked. Cassandra needed time spent doing things _she_ wanted to do.

After the blush, Stephanie handed Cassandra the eyeshadow kit. Clark leaned back in the chair, batting his eye lashes as he waited. Cassandra’s eyes lit up, biting down a laugh. He closed his eyes. She gently swept the powder over his eyelids. Afterwards, Stephanie pulled out a lipstick that was so garish and pink, Clark was sure it had come from some sort of costume kit. He submitted anyway, praying no one snapped any pictures.

When they were done, he looked at himself in the mirror and fought to keep from laughing. He looked like a 1980s pageant queen in dime store make up. Stephanie and Cassandra watched carefully, clearly nervous at his response. He grinned, pulling them into a hug.

“I love it! Who’s next?”

+

After this much time, Clark thought the kids were warming to him. While he was still concerned about how isolated they were at the Manor, they worked well together. They had routines, did fun activities, Clark found Cassandra in under an hour every day now. He’d thought things were going well.

One day, he heard Damian crying in the hallway. Clark had just returned Cassandra to her room from her hiding place in attic. Curious, he searched the halls for the toddler.

He found Damian sitting near the top of the stairs, his face scrunched up and red. Upon seeing Clark, he reached out, the volume raising and worrying Clark further. He moved in closer, careful not to move too quickly least Damian fall backwards and tumble down the stairs.

“Hey, buddy. What’s going on? How’d you get out here?”

He got a few feet away when the floor went out from under him. For a second, just a moment, he felt like he was flying. Something caught his foot and he started his rough descent down the stairs. His knee slammed into the second step as he tried to catch himself on the banister. His elbow cracked pretty hard against the wooden railing, a grunt of pain escaping. He heard footsteps rushing towards him as Alfred, Tim and Dick appeared.

Tim was white as a sheet, racing past Clark and scooping Damian into his arms. Damian quieted a little, eyes wet and frightened as he stared at Clark. Dick helped Clark stand, his mouth firmed into a frown. Alfred’s voice thundered up the stairs, louder than Clark had ever heard.

“Master Jason! Come down here at once.”

A moment of silence before Jason poked his head out of his bedroom. He moved forward cautiously, wringing his hands in the bottom of his t-shirt. “Yeah?”

“Come here.” Jason swallowed, standing at the top of the stairs. Alfred’s face turned. “Have you anything to say for yourself?”

“No,” Jason said lowly.

“No? Nothing? Not an apology for Mr. Kent who’s been nothing but kind to you?”

Clark tried to step forward, but the sharp pain in his knee kept him still. “Alfred, honestly, it’s okay.”

“It certainly is not,” Alfred replied, not sparing Clark a glance. “Locking your brothers and I out of the house is one thing. But this?” He marched up the stairs, bending down and thumbing a thin wire Clark hadn’t noticed earlier. “A trip wire? Mr. Kent could have broken his neck.”

Jason kept his cool for another few seconds before he groused, “It was just a goof! It didn’t mean nothin’.”

“Explain yourself,” Alfred said tersely.

“It was a joke.”

“Not funny, Jase,” Dick said with a shake of the head. Jason looked to him, his eyes gleaming. “He’s really hurt, man.”

“Damian could’ve been hurt,” Tim cut in, his eyes dark and angry. Damian rested in his arms, holding tight to his brother.

With every comment, Jason appeared to shrink and Clark felt the tide turn. “Guys, let’s just take a minute, okay?” Clark said. He tried to move forward when his knee gave out and he nearly lost his balance. Dick steadied him, watching worriedly as Clark held on to the banister.

Alfred watched, his jaw tightening. “You are excused for the day, Mr. Kent.”

“Hey, no. I can finish the day.”

“You can hardly stand. Besides, I think it best the children enjoy a quiet day in today. Jason, a word,” he said sharply, disappearing down the hall.

Dick helped Clark down the stairs, opening the door for him. Tim stood by the doorway, a furrow in his brow. Damian gazed up at him, wide eyed. There was a quiet shuffle and Clark could see Cassandra at the top of the stairs watching quietly, her face unreadable.

Sighing, Clark reached out to touch Damian’s cheek. He smiled, running a hand over the kid’s head. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

Dick eyed him silently. For the first time since they’d met, he wasn’t smiling.

+

Clark couldn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned and eventually turned on his bedside lamp and picked up the phone. He checked his father’s watch, wincing as the phone rang.

As late as it was, his mother answered after three rings.

“Clark? Baby, what’s wrong?”

Her voice washed over him like a warm wave, calming him instantly. “Hi, Ma. I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m calling so late.”

He could hear her moving quietly through the house. Imagined her settling at the kitchen table or starting some tea. “Don’t worry about it. What’s going on?”

Clark sighed, resting his head in his hand as he told her about the day’s events. “It’s just… I thought things were going well. Cassandra was starting to come out of her shell and Damian had just started to rely on me more. I was really getting somewhere.”

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down here. Why are you talking like you’re giving up?”

Frowning, “I just told you—”

“Yes, yes, I know. Kids are kids. Sometimes they do something stupid because they don’t realize the harm it’ll do. I remember when you were eight and you threw a rock at Ricky Hunter and chipped his front tooth because he made fun of your glasses. You weren’t trying to hurt him, certainly weren’t trying to break his tooth but you threw a rock at him because he made you feel bad.”

“So, you think I upset him?”

She thought this over carefully. “I think something upset him. It might not necessarily be you. I hardly think, if it was, that it was anything intentional you did.” She let out a quiet sigh, her voice warm. “The only person who knows the answer to all these questions is a little kid across town that’s probably kicking himself because a lot of people aren’t happy with him right now.”

The thought made Clark’s chest tighten painfully. He remembered how defensive and cornered Jason had looked that afternoon. “You’re right.”

“I know. That’s what I’m here for,” she added. “Now, get some sleep. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”  
  
+

When Clark arrived the next day, Jason opened the door.

Upon finding Clark on the other end, he swallowed nervously, eyes wide. “You came back,” he whispered.

Clark straightened, a residual twinge in his knee. “I work here.”

Jason stared at him, his mouth working silently. Alfred appeared behind him, wiping his hands on a washcloth. “Master Jason, what have I told you about,” he trailed off upon seeing Clark at the door. “Mr. Kent.” His head inclined towards him in greeting. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He returned to the boy beside him, “Master Jason, you left a mess in the kitchen.”

Jason startled a bit, looking to Alfred. “Sorry. I’ll just—”

“Actually,” Clark interjected, stepping inside and closing the door. “I wondered if I could talk to Jason for a moment.”

Alfred looked from Jason to Clark and nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll be in the garden.”

Clark returned to Jason, watching as the boy hurried up the stairs. Sighing, Clark set his bag in the hall closet and started up the stairs. He found Jason in his room lying on his stomach on the bed. Clark knocked on the door.

“Jason?”

Jason sat up, eying him warily. “What do you want?”

“I want an explanation.” Clark sat down in the chair beside the bed, clasping his hands together. “What you did wasn’t very nice. I want to understand why you did it.”

“It was a joke,” he insisted, blue eyes burning through him stubbornly.

“It didn’t seem like a joke.” Clark ran a hand through his hair, holding Jason’s gaze. “I could have been seriously hurt. And what if I’d picked Damian up beforehand? He could’ve been hurt, too.”

“He wasn’t supposed to get that close to the stairs.”

“How’d he get there in the first place? Did you pick him up out of his crib?”

“No, Tim lets him play on the floor sometimes.”

“Why was he in the hallway?”

“I don’t know,” Jason exclaimed with a shrug. “I think he was trying to play with me.”

Clark’s chest tightened and he lowered his gaze. “Help me understand, Jason. Did you want me to quit?”

“No,” he said miserably.

“Did you want to hurt me?”

“No!”

“Then why did you do it?”

Jason sat up, his voice raising as his eyes welled up in the corners. “Why does it matter? You’re just going to leave like all the others anyway! At least this way,” he wiped at his face angrily, “we got it out of the way before we got used to having you around.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They all leave. ‘Cause they found a better job or because they didn’t like us anymore and then everything’s okay for a week or two and then Dad finds us another one.”

Clark took in a slow breath, thinking this over. He knew the job paid extraordinarily well for this kind of gig but he just figured it was because Bruce Wayne was incredibly wealthy and had several children. He’d never thought it was because the job was somehow undesirable. He couldn’t imagine wanting to get away from the Wayne children once you’d gotten to know them.

Dick with his endless energy and the bright light that seemed to emanate from within. Jason’s high spirit, wicked sense of humor and cleverness. Tim’s endless knowledge about technology and random facts and his loyalty to family. Cassandra’s grace, thoughtfulness, and sweet smiles. And Damian who was slow to trust but so loving and warm once he did. The Wayne children weren’t always easy, but the great times were well worth the tough ones.

Clark slid forward in his chair. “Jason, I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s what they all say and then they leave.” He sat at the edge of his bed, his words soft. “The last one, Mrs. Silver. She was really nice. She used to be a librarian and she knew a lot about books. I used to follow her around all the time and ask her questions. We spent a lot of time together. I thought she liked me,” he said, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Then one day she just stopped coming over and Dad tried to pretend but I knew it was because of me. Because I followed her around all the time. She got sick of me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Clark said firmly. Jason’s chin wobbled, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Sometimes people leave and it’s not anyone’s fault. I don’t know what happened to Mrs. Silver, but I know she didn’t leave because of you.”

Jason wiped at his eyes with a disbelieving shake of the head. “How could you know that?”

“Because you’re a great kid, Jason. How could anyone want to get rid of you?”

Jason stared at him, his breathing labored. Finally, he dipped forward into Clark’s arms, squeezing him tight. Clark smiled, stroking his back gently. The boy shook, his arms tightening almost painfully around Clark’s neck. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

After some time, Jason sat back worriedly. “I really didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“I know.”

“I just thought you’d trip coming up the stairs. I didn’t think you’d fall down them.” He picked at his jeans, his voice low. “Alfred got really mad. Dick wouldn’t play with me and Tim still won’t talk to me.”

“Did you apologize?” Jason chewed on his lip, shaking his head. Clark laughed softly, running a hand over his head. “Tell them that you’re sorry and they’ll forgive you.”

“How d’you know that?”

“They’re family.” He stood up carefully, ignoring the twinge in his knee. “Don’t ever do anything like that again, you understand?”

Jason nodded, gazing up at him. “I won’t, I promise. I’m sorry.”

+

That afternoon, Clark found Alfred in the kitchen.

Leaning against the counter, he waited for Alfred to come to a stopping point chopping vegetables. Clearing his throat, he began, “Alfred, I wanted to talk to you about my conversation with Jason.”

“I take it he wasn’t suitably apologetic.”

“No, no, I think,” he paused, “well, I think we may have some issues to work through regarding what is and isn’t a ‘joke’ but I think he understands that he went too far.”

“This time,” Alfred said, sliding the chopped mushrooms aside and starting on the carrots. “He used to play pranks on his siblings. This isn’t the first time someone’s gotten hurt.”

“I think he means well. In his own way, this was a method to ensure that, if I wasn’t planning on sticking around, at least he’d have a say in the matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“What can you tell me about Mrs. Silver?”

Alfred paused, straightening up, eyes focused on the cutting board. Then he took up slicing through the vegetables again. “What do you want to know?”

“Jason told me that he was really attached to her and then, one day, she just disappeared.”

“That may not be the full story.”

“What is the full story?”

Alfred set the knife down and slid the chopped vegetables into a large bowl. “Serena Silver was a very lonely woman. I’m sure, before she came to be employed here, she was a wonderful caretaker. As it was, we came to find out that she had falsified some of her records and in discovery, we let her go.”

“What kinds of records?”

“Criminal.” He started in on the onions, his tone bland. “She’d become involved with some very dangerous men in the Falcone crime family and Mr. Wayne didn’t want to risk having her around the children. So, we let her go quietly and discreetly.”

“Jason thinks that it was his fault.”

Alfred looked to Clark, his eyes widening ever so slightly. “That is simply not true.”

“Neither of you talked to him about it? You didn’t tell him why she had to leave?”

“We worried about if he ever tried to look into it. Jason’s had experience with finding out the worst about people he grew attached to. We thought it best that he not know why.”

“I don’t think it was,” Clark said carefully. “I think you should tell him, Alfred.”

“Serena Silver currently resides in Gotham State Penitentiary. It is very unlikely that she will ever get out.”

“I don’t think you have to tell him everything. Just tell him that she did something bad and she went to prison for it.”

“And when he asks to visit her? What then?” Clark sighed, starting to leave the kitchen. Alfred offered quietly, “I will talk to Master Bruce about it.”

+

Damian’s hand landed on Clark’s watch face, mouth open in surprise at the cool feel of it on his palm.

Clark grinned, sitting Damian on his lap as he leaned back in the rocking chair. It was hard for him to picture Bruce Wayne in one of these but someone must’ve used it. He held his wrist up, showing Damian the watch. “When I was very little, not that much older than you, my father gave me this watch. He told me he got it from some place very special and that it would protect me and keep me safe. I’ve never taken it off.”

Damian traced the face slowly, his head resting on Clark’s chest. It was nap time and, not for the first time, Clark found himself envious of Damian for getting to rest a few hours. “You’re getting sleepy, huh?”

Damian shook his head, fighting to keep his eyes open as Clark rocked them. Damian’s breathing evened out and he stilled, softly snored. Smiling, Clark stood up and laid Damian in his crib, turning out the lights.

He headed down to help Alfred clean up the table after lunch, despite his clear disapproval. Clark was starting to get the hang of pretending they were friends. Brothers in arms in the valiant attempt to keep the Wayne children from injuring themselves. Or each other.

Clark set the plates in the sink as Alfred ran the water. Clearing, his throat, he clasped his hands together nervously as he spoke, “I had a question.”

“Wonderful,” Alfred replied dryly.

“Cassandra – Cass,” he corrected, “she has an interest in ballet. I was wondering if we might set aside a time to take her to the ballet?”

Alfred slapped a dishtowel over his shoulder as the water lathered. “And this would be in the evening?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you leave here at six?”

“Yes.”

“So, essentially, you’re asking me to do this?”

Clark opened his mouth and closed it at once, thinking it over. “I would make an exception.”

“Mr. Wayne’s accounts pay you for the hours you agreed to in your contract.”

‘Yes, I know that,” Clark said blandly. A month since Clark’s hiring and he still hadn’t met the man. For all his apparent interest in his children, he never seemed inclined to spend much time with them. Nor did he seem intent on meeting the babysitter he’d hired in person. “I don’t care about the money.”

Alfred stifled a laugh; the first Clark had heard from him since he’d started work here. “You wouldn’t have taken this job if you didn’t care about the money.”

 _Was that why Alfred hated him so much? He thought Clark was just trying to collect a paycheck?_ “I can take a night to bring Cass to the ballet. If that’s the only way this happens, I’m fine with that.”

“And you’d pay for it?” Alfred asked, turning towards him. His eyes were a piercing blue, seeing through to Clark’s weak spots. All at once, he felt his insides melt and solidify, his resolve hardening.

“If I have to, yes. This is important to me.”

Alfred held his gaze for a long while. Then, he nodded, returning to the sink. “You’ll use the money Mr. Wayne set aside for activities. I should say he will require that the rest of the children attend, as well. As a show of family support.”

Clark gaped at him, nodding quickly when Alfred checked to see he was listening. “Yes, of course. Whatever it takes.” He ran a hand over his face, covering a relieved smile. “Thank you, Alfred.”

As he left the room, Alfred called out, “And Mr. Kent? Don’t ever hesitate to ask me for favors regarding my grandchildren. You understand?”

Clark left the room feeling as though he’d won and lost all at once.  
  
+

Damian stared up at Clark with wide green eyes, his mouth falling open. Grinning, Clark adjusted his miniature bowtie, stifling a laugh when Tim pushed his hands away to do it himself.

“There, Dami. All set,” he cheered, earning a wide smile. In the time Clark had known him, Damian appeared to be a rather happy baby.

Jason entered the room, dressed in his suit and converse sneakers. His hair was soaking wet for reasons Clark was sure were about to be explained. “Dick threw water on me!”

“No, I didn’t! You fell!” Dick shouted, entering the room in a suit that had once included a white shirt. Now, he was covered in red and green paint.

“What happened here?” Clark asked, crossing his arms.

To his surprise, both boys looked to him concernedly. The shouting started all at once.

“Jason was hogging the mirror in the bathroom!”

“We have like six bathrooms, you drama queen!”

“I was using it first!”

“So, you shoved me in the shower?”

“It was an accident.” He pulled on his dress shirt, “This wasn’t!”

“What? I tripped,” Jason drawled with an eyeroll. “You said it yourself. I’m clumsy and shit.”

“Jason,” Alfred chided, entering the room. He had a clean dress shirt in hand and handed it to Dick.

“Thanks, Alfie,” he said with a grateful smile and raced off to change.

Alfred was carrying another garment bag. It figured a man who spent most days dressed in a three-piece suit would find it pertinent to change into _yet another suit_ for the ballet. Maybe the one he was wearing was his house suit or something. He started to head off to make sure Dick didn’t just toss his paint covered shirt on the wood floor when Alfred stopped him with a clearing of the throat.

“Mr. Kent,” he said and handed the bag over to Clark.

Clark took it confusedly. “What’s this?” He wasn’t stupid. If anything, Lois and his mother wouldn’t dare let him go to the ballet in his ratty old jeans and a t-shirt. He had on his nicest suit. Granted, it was a bit worn and he’d colored in a hole on the elbow but it wasn’t too bad. Right?

“Mr. Wayne saw fit to send over new attire for tonight’s event.”

Tim moved in closer, rather unconcerned at Damian’s slobbery kisses to his cheek. “I told him you could probably use a new suit for tonight.”

Frowning, Clark started to object when Cass tugged on his elbow. He hadn’t seen her enter. Dressed in a slim black dress and black tights, she wore ballet flats on her feet. As silent as everything else she wore. It was fitting and Clark smiled. She moved her hands quickly, an excited smile on her face.

_Go get changed! We’re going to be late!_

Shaking his head, Clark headed off to get changed. He passed Stephanie in the hallway in a blue velvet dress with a bright blue headband. Greeting her, he headed into the nearby bathroom but not before he saw her slide a black headband on Cass’ head, earning a shy smile.

The suit was a deep blue, the fabric painfully expensive to the touch. It was sleek and clearly tailored. Most likely purchased from a shop Clark had never heard of, let alone one that he would’ve been able to afford a pair of cufflinks in. As he pulled out the pants, a small velvet box fell to the bathroom floor.

“Oh, and of course he bought me cufflinks,” Clark mused with a shake of the head. He set the box on the counter as he rested his hands on his hips.

He wasn’t sure of the etiquette here. Clearly the children saw his daily attire and assumed he didn’t have the funds for clothing of the caliber they were used to seeing in their world. And it was clear Clark didn’t know much about that world personally. He knew these children here – the children that wore tailored clothing that suffered through food fights and chandelier rides and mud fights and a game called “Monster” wherein Jason put on some sort of bat mask and chased all of his siblings around the house with hands dipped in the paint du jour. He knew their world in the manor where there were no such expectations of looking well dressed and flawless. Hell, until tonight, Clark had never seen Jason without some sort of chocolate stain on the side of his mouth.

He was beginning to understand why those press photos of the Wayne children seemed so odd and clinical. It wasn’t them at all – not really.

But this night wasn’t about him; it was about Cass. She wanted him here tonight and it seemed the others did, too. Even Alfred had been nicer to him this morning. Clark wasn’t going to raise a stink because his pride was a little wounded. He’d wear the damn suit.

If he was at all surprised at how perfectly it fit, the sleek lines cut perfect to form, he didn’t show it.

Alfred had driven one of the Wayne family cars. Sleek and black with tinted windows that made it impossible to see in. At night, the children were fascinated by all of the lights. Climbing up on their knees, hands on the windows as they watched the buildings and streetlamps pass by the windows.

“Hey, hey, hey, seatbelts on,” Clark said quickly.

They spared him frowns and a few whines. He was surprised to see Jason comply first, clicking his seatbelt with a grumble. Dick was the last to listen, eyes widening as he pointed to something outside.

“That’s Babs’ dad! Mr. Gordon!” he said with a smile and Clark followed his line of sight.

The GCPD were standing in an alleyway, a few patrol cars blocking the entrance. A flash of black, disappearing into the shadows. Passing by so quick Clark was sure he’d imagined it. Clark unbuckled his seatbelt, moving through the back of the car.

“Hey! You told us we had to wear seatbelts!” Jason protested.

Clark sat down next to Dick and carefully buckled him in before buckling his own. “That’s right, Jason.” He wrapped an arm around Dick’s shoulders and pulled him close, distracting him quickly. “Let’s play a game, okay?” He waited until they were a few blocks away from the crime scene. “How about I Spy?”

When they arrived, Duke Thomas met them in the lobby, his eyes bright with excitement. Dick looped their arms together and pulled him through the crowd. Clark started to take off Jason’s coat when one of the roaming servers did it for him. They reached for everyone’s coats, including Clark’s. What they did with them, he’d never know. Alfred directed them through the crowd, appearing as at home here as he did at the manor. Clark expected to head in to the main room with everyone else but Alfred steered him towards a box up high. Of course, Wayne money.

Clark sat on Cass’ side, Stephanie on the other. When the lights came down and the curtain raised, her face lit up and she leaned forward in her chair. The music started in softly and she was ensnared from start to finish. Following every movement with the ardent focus only a child could give. He’d never seen her so happy.

Clark expected to have to keep the rest of the children entertained, especially Jason. But, they appeared entertained, as well. Not as enraptured as their sister but they paid attention. At some point, Damian had been passed to Dick and had fallen asleep. Clark carefully took the child and held him while the show went on.

At intermission, he hung back with Damian while Alfred took the kids to the restroom. Jason returned first, sitting in Cass’ chair momentarily while Clark rubbed Damian’s back. His face was a bit warm, not quite worrying but Clark touched his cheek to Damian’s to monitor it. God knew the last thing he needed was a sick baby. With how much Tim hung around him, he’d catch the bug next and pass it on to Jason who’d pass it on to Dick who’d pass it on to Alfred who’d pass it on to Cass. At some point, Clark would get it and the last thing he needed was to be running around the house with a cold.

“Why do you do that?” Jason asked, scratching at his nose.

“What?”

“Why do you hold him like that?”

Frowning, Clark turned towards him. “How do you mean?”

“Well, Timmy holds his head like that, too. Is that cause it’s too heavy?”

Clark stifled a laugh, having found that Jason took such reactions as slights on his intelligence. And that was the last thing he wanted – Jason was a very intelligent child. “It’s habit, at this point. When babies are born, their necks are too weak to support their heads.” Jason brightened, opening his mouth and Clark rushed to say, “Not because they’re too heavy, but because they’re still growing.”

Jason thought this over, cocking his head to the side. It appeared his questions had an ulterior motive other than pure curiosity. Clark leaned forward, adjusting his hold. “Jason, have you ever held Damian?”

Jason’s face scrunched up, his chin jutting out. “No, but not because I can’t! I don’t want to.”

“Why not? He’s your brother.”

“So, I don’t pick up Dickie or Tim.”

“But they’re not small like Damian.”

“Only Tim picks him up. Or Alfred. And sometimes Dick when he gets all whiny.”

“But not you,” Clark said.

“Cass doesn’t either.”

“But she plays with him sometimes and she gives him kisses.” Clark was sure trying to get Jason to like his little brother wasn’t quite part of the job description but it couldn’t hurt.

“’Cause she’s a girl.”

“And it doesn’t make you feel good when she gives you kisses?” Jason’s brow furrowed, his face falling. “It’s okay if it does. Kisses are how some people show affection. Cass loves you so sometimes she gives you hugs and kisses.” Jason picked at the armrest, averting his gaze. “It’s also okay if that’s not how you prefer to show affection.”

After some time, he looked up at Clark, peering at him skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“You can show affection in other ways. Like supporting your family when they want to do something you might not think is the coolest thing ever.” He gestured to the stage. “This is pretty awesome but I know it’s not quite your thing.”

Jason thought this over, nodding once. “Nah, but Cass likes it. She never gets to do stuff so this is cool.”

Clark nodded, stroking Damian’s back. The motion drew Jason’s gaze once more and he leaned back in his chair. “One day, we’ll do something you really want to do, okay?”

“Okay,” he said with a smile as the rest of his family arrived. He moved back to his chair calling out, “I’ll hold you to that, Thirteen.”

Clark shook his head, offering a smile in greeting as Cass sat down beside him. Stephanie kissed Damian’s head as she passed by, grabbing Cass’ hand as the lights flashed and intermission came to an end.

That night, they arrived back at the manor well past eleven o’clock. Clark lived about an hour and a half from the Wayne family and the drive had already seemed pretty daunting. After all of the excitement and the very special night they got to be out past curfew, the children refused to go to bed. Damian’s little nap had only meant he was wide awake when they got home and he started screaming a few minutes after. Tim and Jason refused to go to sleep, even when Dick tried to coax them into it. Clark looked at the mess of suit jackets thrown across the couches and dress shoes littering the halls and just knew he couldn’t leave Alfred here alone.

He pulled off his jacket and got to work.

Clark had never been here for the night shift. If he didn’t already think of Alfred as a saint, he certainly did now. Alfred managed to get Tim and Jason into their beds but not asleep – Clark called that a win. Dick as half asleep brushing his teeth so he wasn’t much of a challenge. Duke was conked out on a sleeping bag in Dick’s room. Damian appeared to have settled again. It had taken Clark holding him close and making about three dozen circles around the nursery before he went down for the count. With a few coughs that worried Clark. He’d keep an eye on it and take him to the pediatrician if it worsened.

Before he left for the night, he made his rounds. Stopping in Cass’ room, he found Stephanie asleep on the floor. He’d presumed Cass was asleep, as well, but she knocked on the wooden post of her bed quietly to get his attention. The light from the hall washed over her face and she signed a message, blinking at him sleepily.

_That was fun. Thank you._

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

_Can we go again? Tomorrow?_

Clark laughed, leaning against the door jamb. “Maybe not tomorrow but soon, okay? Goodnight.”

She smiled, turning her face into the pillow. Clark closed the door and moved to the next where Tim was fast asleep, a book opened on his chest. Clark marked the place and set it aside. Jason was still awake in bed, a book in hand.

Clark poked his head in. “Bed in five, kiddo.”

“But it’s the part where Hermione uses the Time Turner!” he protested.

“Five,” Clark repeated. “You can read more tomorrow. Go to bed. I don’t want you all cranky in the morning.”

Jason scowled but set the book aside. Clark turned to leave when he called out, “Hey, Thirteen?”

Clark sighed internally. “Yes?”

“Do you think Bruce is gone so much because he’s sad that he adopted us?”

Breath catching, Clark moved forward, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “Why do you say that, kiddo?”

“Because he’s never here. He used to be but then Tim came to live with us and Cass and Damian and now he doesn’t have time for us anymore.” It came out in a rush, like he’d been turning the words over and over in his mind and finally found the guts to say them. He stared up at Clark, his eyes wide and alert.

Clark brushed his hair back from his head, finding a smile somewhere. “You know your dad wrote a manual over eight hundred pages about how to take care of you guys? _Eight hundred pages_ ,” he said, making a face Jason cracked a smile at. “Doesn’t sound like a guy who isn’t interested in his kids. I know he works a lot, but does he spend a lot of time with you when he is here?”

Jason thought this over and nodded, his smile widening. “He plays games with us and brings us stuff from other countries. He brought me lots and lots of books.”

“That’s really great, Jase.” He pulled the covers over Jason’s shoulders. “I know sometimes it’s hard to understand but, your father loves you. I’m sure he hates that he doesn’t get to spend as much time with you as he’d like. Just as much as I’m sure that him being busy has nothing to do with you and everything to do with having to work a lot.”

“Who wouldn’t want to spend time with the coolest kids in the world?” Clark asked, patting his shoulder.

Jason rolled his eyes but there was a light flush to his cheeks. “We’re like the coolest in the whole galaxy,” he corrected.

Clark laughed, heading for the door. “My mistake. Goodnight, kid.”

“Night,” Jason murmured, turning over to face the wall. “Thirteen,” he added.

Dick was out cold when Clark poked his head in. He’d left the light on and Clark turned it out, carefully stepping over Duke to make sure the small nightlight in the corner was on. As he closed the door, he saw the bedroom door at the very end of the hall close silently. Clark had never seen that door open. It was the one place off limits when the kids played hide and seek.

Clark had been seconds away from catching a glimpse of Bruce Wayne.

+

“Am I ever going to meet Mr. Wayne?” Clark asked, wiping his forehead with his forearm before he returned to stubbornly scrubbing the dishes. He’d graduated from helper monkey to actually getting to help with the chores. A sure sign Alfred had come to trust him a little bit.

“I cannot say,” Alfred replied, wiping down the counters. “He’s a very busy man.”

“So, I’ve heard. You’d think a man that made me jump through that many hoops for the job would want to vet me out in person.”

“Mr. Wayne knows very well who you are, Mr. Kent.”

“From my resume.”

“And three background checks,” _Three?_ Clark thought. “Your college transcripts, interviews with twenty people closest to you and my observations.”

“Your observations?” Alfred spared him a bland stare before continuing on to the kitchen table. “You report back to him?”

“Did you expect me not to?”

“Well, yes, I did, but,” he set the dish towel down and followed Alfred through the kitchen. “I kind of got the picture you didn’t like me.”

“What I _like_ is irrelevant.”

“Well, _that’s_ not true. You’ve worked here the longest and the kids adore you and it’s clear Mr. Wayne trusts what you think.” He trailed off, a thought settling in with startling clarity. “That’s why you don’t like me, isn’t it?”

Alfred turned to him quietly, waiting. Clark scratched at the back of his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “You’ve been here doing this job alone and here I come to take it from you.”

“You haven’t taken anything.”

“Well, I’m encroaching. I take it you told him you could do this all by yourself.”

Alfred raised his chin, his face carefully blank. “I could have. It would have saved us unnecessary money and letting yet another stranger into my home.”

“Alfred, I’m not trying to step on your toes. I only want to take care of the children.” He searched for the words, sighing. “You’re their grandfather. With me around, you get to just be their grandfather. That’s an important job and a hell of a lot cooler than the babysitter who has to force them to take naps and eat vegetables. I spend most of my day trying to stop them from having fun. That’s my job. But you get to spoil them and go behind my back and tell them ‘yes’ when I say ‘no’.”

Alfred considered this, a glint in his eye. If Clark didn’t know any better, he’d almost say the man was amused. Finally, he returned to wiping down the table. “He always thought he knew what was best for me. At eight, at sixteen, at thirty-five. Always been a bit of brat in that regard.”

Clark laughed, returning to the dishes.

+

Clark cupped the back of Damian’s head, holding the child close as harsh coughs rattled his chest. Damian rarely ever cried but he’d been absolutely miserable yesterday. Couldn’t be easy to play and be cheerful when he felt so awful. Whatever this illness was, it hadn’t gone away with a day of rest and Clark had given him some medicine.

Tim appeared in the nursery and Damian reached out with a small whine, nowhere near as spirited as he usually was. “Tim, sweetheart, you can’t play with Damian right now. He’s sick.”

“I don’t care,” he replied plainly.

“Well, I do. You don’t want to catch what he has. It’s not fun.” He stroked the toddler’s back, rocking in the chair.

“I’ll be fine,” Tim insisted, looking to Clark with a determined scowl on his face.

“It’s just for a few days, kiddo. Let the medicine work its magic, okay?” Tim didn’t reach for Damian again but Clark could tell he still wasn’t satisfied with the situation. “You know, I think it’s really great that you’re so dedicated to taking care of your little brother. He clearly adores you.”

Tim frowned at him, chewing on his lip. The words were quiet, “Dad said nobody ever held him before he came here.”

A vice closed around Clark’s heart, his breath catching. “What?”

“I heard him,” Tim explained, his face drawn. “In the kitchen talking to Alfred. He said Damian’s grandpa didn’t let anybody hold him. He didn’t want Damian to get coddled.”

Clark’s face fell as Tim continued, smoothing down Damian’s hair. “I know what that’s like.” He stared up at Clark defiantly, his voice strong and sure. “But that doesn’t matter now because he has me. He’s my brother and I make sure he knows that I love him and he gets as many hugs as he wants.”

Clark didn’t know what to say. He really had never seen a child Tim’s age that dedicated to take care of an infant. The explanation, as upsetting as it was, made sense. He also knew that it wasn’t healthy for a child to think they were solely responsible for providing love and affection to their sibling. Valiant effort or not.

“And he also has me and Alfred and your dad. And Dick and Jason and Cass.” His voice was soft, but firm, “He’s not alone anymore.” At Tim’s wide eyes, he added, “How about this: I will promise you that anytime you’re not holding him, I’ll hold him, okay?”

Tim’s brow furrowed, doubtful. “You promise?”

“I promise.” He carded his fingers through Damian’s hair, pressing his cheek to his. It was overwarm, certainly warmer than it had been the night before. “Right now, it has to be me because he’s sick and I don’t want you to get sick, too, okay?”

Tim nodded, wiping at his face. “Okay.” Clark started towards the door when he heard small footsteps hurrying after him. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to give him another dose of medicine from the kitchen.”

“I’m coming with you!”

Clark shook his head, a smile breaking out over his face. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

+

Damian’s cold turned into the flu and quickly spread to the other children.

When the infant wasn’t clinging to Clark, he was fast asleep in his crib while Clark ran around caring for the other children. Alfred was doing his best to split the work but in between preparing food and cleaning and trying to pick up where Clark left off whenever Damian needed feeding or medicine, they were stretched pretty thin.

After Damian, Tim went down. No one was particularly surprised considering Clark was pretty sure he’d been sneaking into Damian’s room after Clark put the infant down for the night. He was willing to plead ignorance when Tim spent the day trying to hide his coughing fits sneezing. When Clark took his temperature, he claimed he must’ve been outside too long. He was adorably transparent and Clark simply gave him some medicine and sent him on his way.

Next was Dick who spent a whole day on the ground, which was shocking in itself. He wasn’t particularly cheerful or energetic and camped out in front of the television in favor of playing catch with Jason. When Clark woke him from a nap and found him feverish and sweating, he added Dick to the sick bay.

Jason appeared to hold out the longest. Even helping Alfred and the others supply medicine to the others when Clark found Cassandra curled up in bed with a stuffy nose and shivering. He made a pretty great assistant until he wore himself out and Clark had to carry him to bed.

By the time the Wayne children were down for the count, it was well past six and heading into eleven. Clark bid Alfred farewell and turned out the lights downstairs when he heard a loud crash. Tensing, Clark listened closely as he heard a quiet thud and shuffling noises. They appeared to be coming the living room. Clark grabbed something he could use as a weapon and headed towards them, finding a strange hallway where there wasn’t one before. The tall grandfather clock in the corner of the room had been moved to reveal a narrow stairwell.

As Clark descended, the darkness spread. He called out, “Whoever you are, you picked the wrong house to burgle.”

The quiet rummaging stopped. A light turned on. As Clark neared, he let out a gasp. “Mr. Wayne?”

The older man leaned against a heavy chair, a grunt escaping as he clutched at a large wound on his side. He was bleeding from a large gash in his thigh, dripping onto the stone floor. Clark rushed forward, heart beating fast in his chest.

The man took in Clark’s appearance absently, squeezing his eyes shut as he huffed out a laugh. “Is that a whisk? What are you going to do? Scramble me?”

Clark paid him no attention, tossing the utensil aside as he pulled off his button-down shirt. He pressed it over the wound and scanned the room for something he could use to stop the bleeding. They were in some sort of cave. It was wide and much larger than Clark would have thought possible. As large as the manor was, it still seemed impossible that Wayne had hid a place this enormous underneath his house.

“What is this place?” Clark asked as he pulled Bruce’s hands over the shirt and searched for a first aid kit.

“What’s it look like?” At Clark’s sidelong glance, he sighed, sitting down in the chair with a grimace. “It’s my office.”

He was dressed in some sort of body suit. It wasn’t thin like a scuba suit or some sort of costume. The material was thick, stiff, and plated in certain places. Like he’d had some sort of armor specially made. Clark had heard that the rich were eccentric but this had to take the cake.

Clark managed to find a large box with several rolls of gauze inside. The kit was rather extensive and large, featuring some sort of surgical equipment. Clark lugged it over and set about cleaning the wound. Up close, it was a lot worse than Clark had initially thought. How the hell had Bruce managed to get himself home?

“Who did this to you?” he asked, glancing up at Bruce’s face as he cleaned the gash.

“Certainly not one of my biggest fans.” He hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s well past six o’clock.”

“Your children are sick.” At Bruce’s face, he sighed. “I take it Alfred didn’t tell you about the day we had. Damian went down first and then Tim quickly followed and then Dick and so on and so on. It’s no wonder Alfred didn’t call. He most likely didn’t have time to. We’ve been run ragged all day.”

“But they’re okay? You’re sure it’s just a cold?”

“I think it’s the flu. That’s what Damian has anyway. A few days rest and they’ll all be fine. I would have called if it was anything more serious.” He finished bandaging up the wound. “Not like this. What happened to you tonight?”

“I got mugged.”

Clark sat back on his knees, incredulous. “You expect me to believe that?” He shook his head, gesturing to the tight black suit. “You’re wearing some sort of catsuit and these don’t look like any kind of knife wounds. They look like claw marks. Unless you were mugged by some sort of lion—”

“You’re awfully nosy for someone on my payroll.”

Clark’s hackles rose and he raised his chin. “Maybe I’m just concerned that whatever shady business you’ve gotten mixed up in might come back to hurt my kids.”

“Whatever you’re getting at, you couldn’t be more wrong. My business is just that – it’s mine. I would never, ever let anyone hurt them. And they’re my kids,” he sneered, his eyes fiercely blue.

Clark stared at him, his breathing labored. Finally, he spoke quietly, “You’re getting awfully defensive.” He scanned Bruce’s face carefully. “Someone or something scratched you up pretty bad. You came down here instead of going to get help. Tells me that you didn’t want to risk going to a hospital where they’d ask a hell of a lot more questions than I have. And why would you care about that kind of thing if you were mugged?”

Bruce stared at him, his face pale. “Go home, Kent.”

Clark ran a hand through his hair with a shake of the head. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Go home. It’s late.”

Clark stood slowly, watching as Bruce turned towards the large computer in front of him, dismissing him. Clark headed towards the stairwell, a chill running down his spine. “You forget I went to school to be a reporter, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce paid him no mind as Clark climbed the stairs.

+

The next day, Clark returned to the manor.

The children were still in pretty poor shape. They all huddled together in the playroom on the second floor where Clark put on a movie and helped them create a blanket fort. Damian had to stay close to him, especially when Dick and Jason started a pillow fight and nearly brought the whole thing down. Cass calmly separated them and laid down between them. Clark sent her a smile in thanks and settled back.

Alfred made soup and there was no way they would be to eat it in the fort. Clark gathered the children and steered them downstairs. They followed with great reluctance. Afterwards, they settled for a nap and Clark helped Alfred clean the kitchen. When he returned upstairs, Cassandra was missing.

Clark took it as a sign she must’ve been feeling a bit better and he went in search of her. She hid from him nearly every day since he’d been working here. Sometimes, he quickly found her. Mostly, it was rather challenging. It was impressive considering Dick and Jason seemed to know every nook and cranny of the manor and even they couldn’t find her.

In her weakened state, Cass had chosen a common hiding space. She was sitting on one of the thin wooden beams in the attic, a book in hand. When Clark neared, she smiled, setting the book aside and rolling off of the edge. Clark caught her with a laugh, hugging her close.

“I thought you were asleep with the others.”

 _Bored_ , she signed.

“I see.” He headed towards the playroom, touching her forehead as he went. “You’re still a little warm, kiddo. Try to take it easy for the rest of the day, okay? For me?”

She thought this over for a moment before nodding, resting her head on his shoulder. “Why do you like hiding so much, anyway?”

_You always find me._

Clark brushed her hair back, earning a smile. They returned to the pillow fort.

+

Wayne Enterprises had the same clinical quality the manor used to hold.

A few weeks with Clark keeping the kids busy, running around playing pirates and princesses and cops and robbers – even Alfred couldn’t keep up with his regular, rigorous cleaning schedule. After some time, Clark thought he didn’t seem to mind. After all, he was Captain Blackbeard and tasked with keeping Jason’s ship from crossing the bay. He couldn’t exactly make sure everyone’s shoes were kept off the floor.

Now, Clark straightened his t-shirt, feeling more than a little out of place in such a fancy establishment. He moved to the receptionist’s desk. The blonde woman behind the desk looked up with a critical look, eying him from head to toe.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Clark offered a smile, watching as she softened a bit. “I have an appointment. To see Mr. Wayne?”

“You do?” she asked, returning to her screen as she tapped a few keys. “What time?”

“Eleven o’clock. Clark Kent.”

“It says here that you’re a reporter?”

“Yes, I work for the Daily Planet.” Well, he would at the end of the summer. Alfred had made sure the meeting was put on Bruce’s calendar.

“Yes, I see here. Eleven o’clock sharp.” She smiled, gesturing towards the double glass doors. “Please go right in.” She picked up her phone. “Mr. Wayne? Your eleven o’clock is here.”

When the doors closed, Bruce looked up in surprise. “You’re my eleven o’clock?”

Clark sat down across from him and crossed his legs. “I certainly am.”

Bruce studied him for a moment before returning to his files. “I’m working, Kent.”

“You’re always working.” When Bruce didn’t give him his attention, Clark huffed out a breath. “I’ve tried to request time to speak with you and you’ve had your secretary continuously turn me down. It’s been over a month since you hired me and we’ve never once spoken about what I’ve learned.”

Bruce scratched at his brow where a small butterfly bandage covered two small cuts. “And what have you learned?” he asked distractedly.

“That your children are some of the most wonderful human beings I’ve had the pleasure to meet. I’ve learned that Jason can read well past a high school level. I’ve learned that Dick is an excellent gymnast and, with the right teacher, he could probably be in the Olympics someday. I’ve learned that Cassandra loves ballet and most certainly has the discipline to make a real go at taking lessons.” Clark leaned forward, reaching across the desk to cover Bruce’s hand. Blue eyes met his, more focused than Clark was expecting. His heart skipped a beat, mouth dry as he licked his lips and continued. “I’ve learned that Tim believes he’s solely responsible for making sure that his little brother knows that he’s loved and cared for.”

Bruce’s eyes widened a bit, his voice low. “That’s not true.”

“I know that and you know that, but he’s under the impression that it’s his job. Your children are incredibly isolated. Sure, sometimes Duke Thomas and Stephanie Brown come over to play but, other than that, your kids spend all of their time at home.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Let them go to the park. Play with other kids. Maybe even participate in some community activities.”

Bruce shook his head firmly. “No.”

“Mr. Wayne—”

Bruce stood up, pacing behind the desk. “I’d have to vet everyone, the teachers, the facilities, the other parents.” He ran a hand through his hair, his shirt pulling tight across his shoulders as he moved. He was rather fit for a man with such a time-consuming day job. “There are too many variables.”

Clark thought this over. Then, “How about you let me worry about the variables?”

“You hardly have the resources,” he replied, levelling Clark with a look.

“I’ll pick one thing, one activity. You can run the names I give you through your background checks and I’ll be with the kids the entire time. I won’t let them out of my sight.”

“Jason’s hardly going to let you be a helicopter parent.”

“I think you’d be surprised to know that we get along pretty well.”

“He nearly killed you a few weeks ago.”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

Bruce crossed his arms, his jaw tensing like he was prepared to say no yet again. Or simply kick Clark out of his office. Instead, he sat down with a sigh. “Have you eaten yet?”

“What?”

“Lunch. Have you eaten yet?” Clark shook his head and Bruce nodded, reaching for his phone. “Sandra, can you send up some food?”

  
Clark set his fork down and showed Bruce a webpage on his tablet. “See, look at this. It’s perfect.”

“Theatre? You think Jason is going to willingly put on a funny costume and perform in a play?”

“I think, if it’s the right play, he will. He’s an odd duck, that one,” Clark said fondly. “He has an affection for Shakespeare. Granted, a lot of it might be because Duke told him about the similarities between the Lion King and Hamlet.”

“There’s a children’s production of Hamlet?”

“There’s a children’s production of the Lion King,” Clark clarified.

Bruce scrolled through the page, reading further. His eyes were startlingly blue. When focused on Clark so intently, it almost felt like staring into the sun. The moment Bruce turned away, Clark felt air fill his lungs again. It was intimidating, and exhilarating all the same. He pulled at his collar, a little overwarm as he watched Bruce read through.

His mouth worked, the corner turning up. “Duke Thomas loves theater.”

“He does?” Clark asked innocently. “I must’ve missed that.”

Bruce set the tablet down and leaned back in his chair. “You get me the names of everyone involved, and I mean everyone – teachers, volunteers, the other parents,” he listed. “If everything checks out, you can take them.”

“Really?”

Bruce’s eyes widened at the enthusiasm and he softened a bit. “No promises. If I find anything I’m not comfortable with, I’ll shut this down.”

“Got it. Of course. Thanks, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded, returning to his food. “This means a lot to you.” It wasn’t a question.

“The kids are really special. I don’t want them to be afraid of the world.” Blue eyes cut to his, guarded and alert. Perhaps Clark should have backed down but he continued on. “You know they all miss you. Every day. They wish they could spend more time with their father.”

“I have to work.”

“You and I both know it isn’t just time here that’s occupying your free time.”

He’d expected Bruce to brush him off again. Instead, he set his fork down. “I have a unique understanding of what my children have gone through. I didn’t just lose my parents, I watched them gunned down in front of me. If I had – if someone had done everything they could to try to find their killer, I would’ve been grateful. It would have helped me sleep knowing that their killer was brought to justice.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark offered, reaching out for his hand. Bruce’s breath caught, eyes flicking to their hands and back to Clark, a guarded look on his face.

“When I took Richard in, it wasn’t just out of the goodness of my heart. I looked at him as a second chance. I wanted to spare him from feeling helpless and alone. And then Jason came along and Tim and Cassandra and then Damian. I gave them a home, but I can’t ever give them peace of mind. Not truly. Not when this city continues to devour everyone inside of it.”

Realization finally set in. “You’ve been looking into their parents’ cases.”

“What choice do I have?” Bruce asked honestly. “This thing happens that completely changes your whole world. It’s the worst thing to ever happen to you. The police look into it, they may even do their due diligence, and then it becomes a cold case filed away on a shelf full of other unsolved crimes. Somebody has to look into it when nobody else will.”

“But, Bruce, what you’re doing is dangerous.”

“I don’t care.” He averted his gaze, studying Clark’s hand as it covered his own. “I just want to give my children peace of mind. Wouldn’t you want the same if they were your children?”

+

“Where are we going?” Dick asked, sitting beside Clark in the limo.

“Your father has agreed to let me sign you guys up for theatre classes.”

“Really?” Jason asked, his face scrunched up in a scowl.

“No way!” Dick exclaimed, a spark in his eye.

 _Is Duke going to be there?_ Cass signed excitedly.

“Theatre?” Tim asked, fastening Damian in his car seat. “You mean like on stage and stuff?”

“If you want. They need volunteers to help build sets and make costumes and run the light show.”

“Light show? What’s that exactly?” Tim asked and Clark knew he had him hooked.

When they arrived, Duke Thomas came over, a dash of red paint on his nose. He hugged Dick and Cassandra and ruffled Jason’s hair, to the boy’s dismay. “Good to see you, Duke,” Clark greeted.

“Thanks for bringing more volunteers,” Duke said. “C’mon, Dick. I think you’d be a great dancer.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dick began, shy for the first time Clark had ever seen. He stuck close to Jason, scratching at his chin.

“Dick, go on. Have fun,” Clark said, dropping down to help Damian pull his jacket off. “I’ll look after them.”

Dick hesitated a moment longer before Cassandra grabbed his hand with a smile and dragged him off. “Car!” Damian shouted, leaning into Clark’s chest as he watched Dick disappear behind one of the set walls. He looked to Clark worriedly, his little brow furrowed.

“It’ll be fine, Damian. You’ll see him later.”

Tim, and Jason stared at him, eying the others warily for a moment. “Guys, this’ll be fun. Trust me. You just have to find what you’re good at.” He picked Damian up and moved over to the sign-up table. A young girl smiled up at him, waiting as he studied the papers on the table. “Tim would like to learn more about running the light show. If that’s okay?”

“Of course, Stuart handles the lights. He’s over there in that corner.”

Tim held tight to Clark’s hand, sticking close to his side. “Go on, Tim. It’s okay. I’ll be right here.” At Tim’s hand tightening around his, he added, “I’ll keep an eye on Damian. You can trust me.”

Finally, Tim headed over, looking back twice before he crossed the room fully. Jason crossed his arms, eying the stage warily. “What now? You want me to help build stuff?”

“Actually, I have a very special job for you.” He handed Jason a copy of the script. “I think you’d be perfect for one of the roles.”

“You want me to act?” Jason asked, his eyes wide. “Are you crazy?”

“Jason, you’re one of the most outgoing kids I’ve ever met. And you know how to project.”

“What?”

“You have a strong, clear voice. You should use it.” At Jason’s frown, he added, “Just give it a try. If you don’t like it, we’ll find something else you’re good at, okay?”

Jason read through the script for a bit before nodding. “Yeah, okay. But no promises, Thirteen.”

“No promises,” Clark agreed with a laugh.

Jason headed towards the group of kids reading in the corner. Clark stood up, holding Damian close as he checked on the others. Cass and Dick were watching the choreographer go through the first act. Tim was standing next to Stuart, eyes wide and focused as he listened intently. Duke sat down next to Jason with a script of his own. It seemed to be working out just fine.

For now.

He looked to Damian with a smile, running a hand over his head. He’d asked Bruce for permission to help the kids get out in the world more but, now that he had, he had to admit he felt a little nervous about it. Even knowing they were well within his sights.

“I’ve got something special planned for you, too,” Clark said, feeling Damian rest his head on his shoulder as he moved over to the corner where the rest of the younger children were.

“Clark, hi! You made it. This must be Damian,” Carrie said, reaching out a hand. Damian shook it, a curious look in his eye. “Nice to meet you, kid.”

“I got the others squared away.” He kneeled down, setting Damian on his feet. He kept close to Clark, green eyes wide and wary. “It’s okay, Damian. We’re going to do something really fun.”

Carrie picked up a storyboard with bright greens, reds and yellows. She showed Damian a large scene featuring a mix of animals, lions, tigers, giraffes, elephants and monkeys. “We need a lion and I think you’d be perfect,” she said with a smile. “Can you be a lion for me?”

Damian grinned, looking to Clark excitedly. He let out a quiet roar, bringing a smile to Clark’s face. “I can’t hear you,” Clark said, earning a louder roar. “C’mon, louder.”

His face scrunched up as he roared _even louder!_ Clark laughed, hugging him close.

“I think we found our lion,” Carrie said with a grin.

+

Clark arrived home from a run one day to find a Bruce Wayne waiting for him.

“You drove yourself?” Clark teased, pulling out his keys.

“I do have a license.”

“Well, come in then.” Bruce followed closely behind him, the heat from his body leaving Clark more than a little flustered.

He turned on the light, instantly regretting that it had been a while since he’d cleaned up around here. Give or take a few weeks. He tossed his keys on the counter and moved into the kitchen. “Can I get you something? Water? I could make some coffee?”

“Water is fine,” Bruce said, sitting down at the bar. When Clark returned to him, the man was watching him quietly, chin in hand. His eyes traced over Clark’s body, making Clark very much aware of the fact that he was still in skin tight running shorts and a shirt stuck to him like a second skin.

Clark swallowed nervously, averting his gaze as he set the glass down on the counter. “So, how can I help you?”

Bruce was quiet for a moment, tracing the rim of the glass. Finally, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said to me.”

“Which part?” Clark asked lightly resting his elbows on the counter and staring out across at him. He was unfairly handsome; a fact Clark had noted on more than one occasion.

Bruce offered an amused quirk of his lips as he spared Clark a look. “About not wanting them to be afraid of the world.” He tapped the rim of his glass and took a drink. It was then that Clark realized, for all of his paranoia about anything and everything he came into contact with, he’d never once questioned the drink Clark had given him. He licked his lips, setting the cup down. “I think maybe they’re not the only ones I’ve kept cut off from the world.”

“Well, I was beginning to think you were keeping Alfred tied to the manor.” Bruce levelled him with a stare and Clark offered a smile. “Kidding.”

“You do that a lot, I’m guessing.” He paused, scratching at his brow. “I’ve never been what you would call ‘relaxed’,” he said.

“I’m shocked.” His smile widened and, to his surprise, Bruce returned it.

“You’ve been good for my kids. For my family. They won’t stop talking about that theatre you took them to.” His eyes softened. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen them so excited. Other than the night you took them to the ballet. I can’t help but wonder if part of it was simply because they were finally out of the house.” He took up his glass once more, murmuring, “And away from me.”

As he drank Clark chose his words carefully. “Bruce, those kids adore you. I’ve had to sit through story after story of ‘Daddy did this’ and ‘then Dad said this’. They worship the ground you walk on.” Bruce shook his head, guarded and doubtful. It was startling how similar it was to the look Clark saw on Tim’s face quite often. “But kids need to be around other kids. They need to get out and meet people. If you keep them inside forever and only teach them that it’s okay to trust family, they’ll never grow outside of the bubble you built for them.”

Bruce’s eyes gleamed as he nodded, lowering his gaze. “I know.”

“You meant well. Anyone can see that.”

Bruce huffed out a laugh, planting his hands on the counter as he sat back in the barstool. “Where were you when I was growing up?”

Clark smiled, his eyes drawn to the strange lightness to Bruce’s appearance. Maybe talking it out had really helped him in some way. The words escaped before he really had time to think about how they’d be taken. “It’s not too late, you know?”

Bruce’s gaze held his, a curious glint in his eye. “You think so.” It wasn’t a question.

+

Damian took his first steps. He headed straight for Tim.

The kids had all been on the floor surrounding Clark as he read from a storybook about the Knights of the Roundtable. He’d thought it might be rough going holding Jason and Dick’s attention but they sat just as enraptured as their siblings. Tim was distractedly shoving goldfish crackers in his mouth as he listened.

Alfred returned from giving Damian a bath. As Alfred set him down, Tim’s eyes lit up and he waved him over. “C’mon, Dami. Clark’s reading us a story.”

It was more likely he’d meant for Damian to crawl but his face twisted into a determined little scowl, his brow furrowed. He wobbled a bit, but only for a _second!_ Then he was moving forward, his arms outstretched. He only had eyes for Tim. Beaming, Tim reached out for him, holding his arms out to catch the toddler just in case.

But Damian never stumbled, smiling as he moved towards his brother. Tim swept him up in his arms, pride in his voice as he cheered, “You did it! You’re walking!” Damian hid his face in Tim’s neck shyly, grabbing at his shirt.

Clark stroked his back, his voice warm and soft. “Good job, buddy.” Damian flashed him a smile, widening as Clark tickled him playfully.

“That’s amazing, little D,” Dick praised, ruffling his hair as Cass kissed the toddler’s cheek and Jason gave the kid a high five.

Clark watched all of them fawn over Damian for a bit and, while he was near bursting with pride, he also felt strangely disheartened. It was such a big milestone and Bruce was missing it. Just like he’d missed the first time Damian said Dick’s name and the first time he learned to sign Cassandra’s. An idea struck and Clark set the book down.

“Stay right here.” They all watched curiously as he went into the kitchen and grabbed the phone, dialing the number on the fridge.

“Alfred? Is everything alright?” Bruce asked briskly.

“Hey, it’s, uh, it’s me. Clark. Kent,” he added, covering his face as his skin warmed.

Bruce’s quiet laugh rumbled through him, warming Clark further. “Yes, we’ve met.”

“Right,” Clark swallowed nervously. “I was calling to see if you were free to meet for lunch?”

“Perhaps. What did you have in mind?”

+

When Bruce arrived, the kids went nuts.

Jason bolted into his arms, grinning as Bruce picked him up in a hug. Dick and Tim hugged his waist as Cass stood a little ways away with Damian in her arms, a soft smile on her face.

“You came home!” Jason cheered with a smile, his face lighter than Clark had ever seen.

“I did,” Bruce said, smoothing down his unruly hair.

His gaze met Clark’s, the focus leaving a nervous fluttering in Clark’s stomach. Bruce smiled, coming closer. He’d clearly come straight from work, still in his jacket and tie. His hair was windswept, blue eyes sharp and disarming. Clark felt his heartrate tick up. He smiled in return, kneeling down beside Damian.

“I thought we could use a day outside to celebrate.” He helped Damian stand, holding him close, whispering, “Hey, buddy. Think you can go to Daddy?” Damian looked to him, eyes wide and trusting. He nodded, mirroring Clark’s smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yeah? Okay, go to Daddy.”

Watching Damian walk for the first time was amazing in itself. Watching Bruce see Damian walk for the first time was almost better. It was a complete transformation. Blue eyes widened and softened, a gentle smile spreading across his face. Damian let out a cry, moving forward as fast as he could as Bruce kneeled down, setting Jason on his feet. Damian raced into Bruce’s arms, stumbling a bit at the end as his father scooped him up and kissed his cheek.

His words were hushed, pride and amazement in his voice, “You did so well! I’m so proud of you.” He bounced Damian a little in his arms, holding him close. Clark had rarely seen Damian in such high spirits.

His gaze fell to Jason who stood nearby, his eyes downcast. Clark moved in closer, pulling the boy into his side. Jason offered a small smile before returning his gaze to his feet. Clark cleared his throat, catching Bruce’s attention. “I thought we could do something fun?”

+

“Oh, no. No way,” Bruce said, crossing his arms.

“Bruce,” Clark began as Alfred opened the car door and let the children out.

As he helped Damian step down, he said, “Master Bruce, children need sunlight.”

“We have a perfectly good backyard.”

“Yes, but do you know what that yard is missing?” Alfred asked and Bruce let out a frustrated huff. “Other children. What harm could it do? They have three guardians, there are several other parents and nannies milling around. We’ll watch them closely.”

Damian reached out, trying to pull away from Alfred’s hold. He looked to him pleadingly and Alfred looked to Bruce in question. Sighing, Bruce nodded, waving his hand. Tim cheered, picking Damian up and following after the others as they headed to the playground. Alfred followed, offering Clark a quick nod, the corner of his mouth quirked. It was about as close to a smile as Clark ever got.

That left Bruce and he alone and Clark headed over to a nearby bench. Bruce sat down beside him, folding his jacket in his lap. He was a little stiff, clearly still uncertain. “It’ll be fine,” Clark said. “Alfred doesn’t miss a thing.”

“I know,” he agreed quietly.

Clark watched him for a moment, the way his long lashes fluttered over his cheeks. He licked his lips, taking a deep breath. “So, the summer’s ending soon.”

“There’s a month or so left,” he looked to Clark, eyes sharp and disarming.

“So, you only hired me for the summer.”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth turned up, a spark in his eye. “No one else has ever made it this long.”

“Noted,” he said with a smile. The wind swept his fringe into his eyes as he chose his words carefully. “I think that means that, once the older kids go back to the school, it’ll just be Damian left at home. And I’m pretty sure Alfred can handle one child.”

Bruce nodded, lowering his gaze. “I know he thinks I hired you because I thought he wasn’t up to the task this summer.” His eyes cut to Clark’s once more, clear and honest. “But that’s not true.”

“I know.”

“When my parents died, I only had Alfred. He took care of me. I was a difficult, selfish and angry child. He never gave up on me. No matter how many times I dared him to.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking to where Alfred was helping Tim spin Damian on the roundabout. “I wanted to give him a break from carrying the weight of being solely responsible for being everything to a child.”

Clark’s chest tightened and he found himself reaching out, grasping Bruce’s hand in his own. “Bruce,” he said gently, drawing his attention.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done. For my family and for Alfred. For me,” he added with a soft smile. “It’s probably the best summer they’ve ever had. They won’t shut up about you. They love you.”

Warming, Clark squeezed his hand. “They’re pretty great kids.”

He returned to the playground, tracking down the kids. Dick and Tim were on the monkey bars. Cass was taking Damian with her down the slide. Jason had made a new friend by the jungle gym. The little boy appeared younger and, for a moment, his fingers slipped and he fell to the ground. Jason dropped down to help him up, dusting him off and checking to make sure he was okay. It brought a smile to Clark’s face.

“I’m going to miss them,” he admitted, a weight settling in his chest.

Bruce squeezed his hand.

+

Clark did his best to keep Bruce involved.

He took lots of pictures throughout the day. Photos of Cass and Tim covered in more paint than their canvases. Of Dick cheesing for the camera as he helped Alfred make homemade pizzas. Of Jason and Damian squeezed into an oversized armchair while Jason read the Jungle Book to his little brother. Of the kids all napping on blankets in the middle of the playroom.

In response to the last, Bruce texted back, _“You got them all to sleep at the same time. Are you a wizard?_ ”

Clark continued to take the kids back to the theater to prepare for the play. Dick and Cass practiced their dance at home, performing for the family. Tim had taken it upon himself to do extra reading to learn more about programming the light show. Jason had taken his role very, very seriously. Clark heard from Alfred that he’d had to pull the script out of Jason’s hands more than a few times to get him to finally go to sleep. Clark made sure to leave a flyer on the fridge where Bruce couldn’t miss it.

One day, at the end of the work day, Clark pulled on his jacket and grabbed his bag when the back door opened and Bruce entered. In all the time Clark had been working for the Wayne family, Bruce had never come home early from work.

Blue eyes found Clark’s, opening in surprise and then brightening as Bruce smiled. At a loss for words, Clark returned the smile dopily. He was saved from his embarrassing silence when the kids entered the room.

“Dad!” Dick shouted, racing forward. He hugged Bruce tight, starting in on what they’d done that day. Bruce listened aptly, his eyes returning to Clark every time Dick mentioned him.

Cass moved forward, signing, _You’re home for dinner?_

Her eyes were wide and hopeful. Bruce nodded with a grin. “Yes, Alfred’s making fettucine. Your favorite,” he added, touching her face and earning a smile.

“Can Clark stay?” Dick asked.

“I don’t know,” Bruce began, clearly trying to give Clark an out.

“He has to stay,” Jason whined, tugging on Clark’s shirt.

Bruce looked to him in apology and Clark shrugged, tugging off his jacket. “I don’t mind. There’s nothing waiting for me at home but leftover Chinese food.”

“Really?” Bruce asked curiously, sharply focused.

Clark’s face warmed as he sat down across from Bruce at the table, holding his gaze solidly. “Really.”

Bruce smiled, a spark in his eye as he eyed Clark across the table.

+

The night before the play, Clark was running around the manor trying to calm everyone’s panic.

Dick was worried that he’d nailed the last few run throughs of the routine because he was clearly going to screw up on stage tomorrow night. It had been so long since he’d performed anything and what if he wasn’t any good? What if he messed up and it messed up the other dancers?

Clark sat him down and calmly explained to him that he nailed the routine _because_ he was good; there was no other reason. He was going to do a fantastic job and at the end of the night, he’d be so proud of himself. No matter what happened, Clark would be proud of him because he tried something new. Dick hugged him tight enough to break a rib before he ran off to run through the routine one more time.

Jason was stumbling through his lines and getting more and more flustered as he did. Clark had to physically sit him down and help him take a few deep breaths. His eyes were bright and frantic, his hands shaking.

“I’m going to screw it up, I know I will,” he said in a shaky voice. “I screw everything up. I’m gonna get the lines wrong or forget them and then everyone’s going to be looking at me. Why’d you make me do this?”

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he said calmly, holding Jason’s shoulder. He was shaking but he held Clark’s gaze. “You’re not going to screw this up. You’re the bravest kid that I know and you can do anything you set your mind to. You know these lines backwards and forwards. Alfred’s _heard_ you.”

Jason nodded, muttering, “I know them.”

“You do. You’re going to do great, kid.” He hugged him tight, running a hand over his head when Jason held on for a long time.

Tim was in pretty good shape. When Clark checked on him, he was in Damian’s room explaining the job to him. Damian listened intently, gazing up at his brother focusedly. Almost as though he actually understood. Clark told them to get some sleep and left them alone. Alfred would be by soon enough to put the hammer down.

When he went to check on Cass, he couldn’t’ find her. He checked the usual spots and found her on one of the beams in the attic, her knees pulled tight to her chest. Clark climbed up and sat next to her.

“You okay?”

She nodded, resting her cheek on her arm as she stared at him. After some time, she shook her head.

 _Scared,_ she signed.

“Of performing?”

She shook her head. _Is Dad coming?_

“I think so. I made sure to leave the flyer out and remind him.”

_What if I don’t do a good job?_

Her brow furrowed in worry, lip caught between her teeth. Clark knew it was unlikely that she wouldn’t do a great job. Cass was graceful and well-coordinated in everything that she did. It was no surprise that she was a fantastic dancer. But, he knew the more important issue here.

“What do you think would happen?”

_I’ll embarrass myself. I’ll embarrass my father._

Her breath quickened, fingers a little clumsy as she continued. _I just want him to be proud of me._

Clark swallowed thickly, reaching out and pulling her into his arms. She curled into him as he rubbed her back, his voice steady. “You know, Bruce is already so proud of you. He’s so proud of what you’ve accomplished and the incredible young woman you’ve become. Your brothers adore you and they look up to you, I’ve seen it. Whatever happens tomorrow won’t change that,” he explained, touching her chin and holding her gaze.

She studied him for a long time. Finally, she nodded and buried her face in his chest.

Afterwards, he carried her to her room. As he was passing through the kitchen, he heard a loud crash.

Tensing, he set his bag down on the counter and headed for the large grandfather clock in the living room. It was closed, in place as though it wasn’t hiding anything ominous behind it. Clark cursed, pacing a few steps before he remembered the way it had looked that night he found Bruce downstairs. The placement of the hands.

He moved them, heart beating fast in his chest. When the door opened, he hurried down the steps. 

“… Gordon won’t stand for it.”

“Alfred—”

“You know he won’t, Bruce. You keep him in the dark about this and things will only get worse for you.”

“I can handle it.”

“It isn’t just about you anymore, you know that. Ra’s isn’t going to stop and the more you keep up this delusion that he will, the more I find myself forced to consider alternatives.”

A pause, a brief grunt of pain and labored breathing. “Such as?”

“Maybe it’s time I stop leaving it up to you to find help.”

Alfred was hovering over Bruce on the exam table, head jerking up in surprise when he saw Clark. His eyes widened, looking to Bruce in concern. Bruce waved a hand, a pained grimace on his face.

“Clark already knows. He helped me one night over a month ago.”

Alfred nodded but he still looked a little shaken. He packed up the kit and stepped back. “Excuse me. I have to make sure Master Tim has indeed gone to bed.” He passed by with a nod for Clark.

Clark moved forward, wringing his hands together as Bruce sat up straighter. There were large bandages wrapped around his torso, several gashes and small burns on his face and arms. Now that he was shirtless, Clark could see the scattering of small healed scars and healing bruises. Bruce’s body had taken a beating tonight and several previously, it seemed. How he kept putting himself through such torment, Clark could never understand.

“You wear armor, don’t you?” he asked, his voice thin.

Bruce stared up at him, guarded. “I do. It doesn’t always work. The people I deal with, they’ve wizened up. Some of them have technology specifically intended to cut through armor.”

Clark noted a small puncture wound a little off center on Bruce’s chest. Some sort of stab wound. “Why do you do this, Bruce?” he asked, a knot in his throat.

“I’m helping people.” When Clark shook his head, Bruce grabbed his hand. Eyes soft and blue. “I really believe that I am. I’ve saved people. I’ve saved children having to go through what I went through. That’s not nothing.”

“But at what cost?” He touched a long scar along Bruce’s right shoulder. “You’re killing yourself.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“That makes it worse, in a way,” Clark murmured. His fingers slid over a burn on Bruce’s side, over a jagged scar over his left pec. Bruce drew in a breath, focused intently on Clark’s face. “You hardly ever seem to sleep. What if you make a mistake?”

“I won’t,” Bruce said firmly.

“What if you make a mistake?” Clark asked again. “Your children need you.”

“They needed their parents. If I can make sure the people that took them away are behind bars, I can give them closure.”

Clark shook his head, ducking down in front of the table. He cupped Bruce’s face, startling him into silence, his mouth falling open in surprise. “Bruce, they just need you.” Blue eyes widened, gleaming in the light. “That’s all. They just want you.”

“What about their parents’ cases?” he rasped.

“Help out where you can but don’t get yourself killed in the process,” Clark said gently. His thumb traced over Bruce’s cheek.

Bruce licked his lips, his pink tongue running over a split in his bottom lip. His voice was rough, “What if I’m not enough?”

Caught in the force of Bruce’s stare, Clark felt the words pour from his mouth. “You’re more than enough.”

Long, black lashes fluttered over Bruce’s cheeks, hands circling Clark’s wrists as he neared.

Their lips met in a press so soft Clark thought he’d imagined it. His breath caught, his mouth falling open as Bruce rose up, his nose brushing as he turned his head and fit them together. Warm, wet, the taste of salt on his tongue. All thought fled as he gave himself over.

+

The next night, Clark was so busy running around making sure everyone had their costumes and the right shoes. He didn’t have time to worry that Bruce might not make it to the theater in time. He certainly didn’t have time to dwell on their kiss.

After he’d left the manor that night, he kept touching his lips, the lingering feel of their kiss leaving him flustered and a little lightheaded. He’d moved through the morning in a daze, barely following everyone’s conversation. When Jason had asked him about it, he hadn’t wanted to lie but he certainly couldn’t tell them the truth. Aside from being unprofessional, it was unwise. All of this was.

At the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to think about how ill-advised it was to kiss his boss. Not when he was still thinking about the way Bruce’s warmth had seeped in, spreading outward and drawing him in closer. Bruce was like quicksand – pulling him in deeper and deeper before he’d even realized he’d been caught. Having all of that steadfast attention focused on him, all of that passion and fire – it seemed impossible to turn away from it. And worst of all, Clark didn’t want to. He liked it. He wanted more of it. He wanted Bruce.

But where did that leave him? After this summer, the kids would return to school and Clark would go to work at the Daily Planet. What would become of this strange connection with Bruce? Would they try dating? Clark worked for him and he was a farm boy from Smallville. Bruce was a billionaire, he spent his days making deals involving more money than Clark could ever even dream of. How could Clark ever hold his interest for longer than a day or two?

“Clark!” Dick shouted, shaking Clark out of his thoughts.

He refocused on Jason’s head piece. The furry hood tied securely beneath Jason’s chin. He smiled, stepping back. “I’ll be right back.” Jason’s eyes grew wide and panicked. “Just a second,” he reassured. “I’ll be right back.”

Dick stood in the middle of his room, his shirt halfway on and not budging. “It doesn’t fit!” he exclaimed, worried furrow in his brow.

Clark pulled it off with a tsk. “Dick, I think this is Cass’ shirt. Hold on.” He went and found her standing in front of her mirror with a frown in a shirt much too long for her. Hearing the door open, she held up her arms, the sleeves coming down over her wrists. Laughing, Clark headed over and handed her the shirt. “Here, I think yours got mixed up with Dick’s. Hand him the one you’re wearing, okay?”

As he passed by Dick’s door, he called out, “Clark?”

“Cass will come in soon, okay?”

Jason was in his room with Alfred running over his lines again. Clark smiled, heading in search of Damian. He found the toddler standing in his room in his lion costume, the hood pushed back. Bruce sat in front of him, holding the toddler still as he dabbed a brush in a small pallet of face paint. He’d started in on a rather detailed face in shades of orange and yellow. He’d started on the whiskers now. It was quite impressive.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Clark asked, entering the room.

Bruce looked up, brightening as he treated Clark with a smile. It sent a rush of warmth through Clark’s blood, same as it always had. Clark had stopped wondering if that would ever fade. Bruce scratched as it his nose, dipping his brush in the black paint. “In my line of work, I’ve had to go undercover a few times.”

“As a lion?”

Bruce rolled his eyes fondly. Damian reached out, grabbing at Clark’s hand. Clark smiled, scratching at his stomach lightly and earning a laugh. It also earned a chiding look from Bruce before he continued his work.

“As other people. I got pretty good at the make-up. This is just… more dramatic,” he explained, tipping Damian’s chin up. Damian complied, green eyes bright with excitement.

“He’s a happy child,” Clark mused.

Bruce’s mouth worked, quiet for a moment. Then, “He wasn’t always that way.” He dipped the brush back in the paint, touching up some of the detail on Damian’s temple. “When I held him for the first time, he had what I could only describe as a panic attack. He wasn’t used to it.”

Clark’s chest tightened, smoothing his thumb over Damian’s hand. “That’s awful.”

“Damian’s mother came from a family that believed in greatness above all else and they didn’t believe in coddling. They valued all the wrong things.” He set the brush down, pulling Damian into his arms. He blew on the boy’s temple, drying the paint before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I didn’t want him to grow up in that environment.”

“But you loved her,” Clark said carefully.

Bruce cupped the back of Damian’s head, kissing his temple. “Everything’s different when you’re young.”

+

The show went off without a hitch.

It began with Dick in costume holding Damian up high as he presented baby Simba to the rest of the animal kingdom. He nailed his one line, letting out a loud roar that made everyone smile. The play began and everyone settled in to watch. Duke Thomas made an amazing Mufasa. Dick and Cassandra nailed their routines. Jason was excellent as Timon, with perfect comedic timing.

Clark sat in the back with Bruce and Alfred, who were enraptured the entire time. Alfred took photos of absolutely everything and Bruce seemed in awe of the whole thing. Clark, who’d been there to see many of the rehearsals had seen quite a bit of the performance beforehand. Even so, it was amazing seeing the entire thing coming together. He felt just as proud as Bruce and Alfred watching the children on stage. When it was over, they stood and clapped, a beaming smile on the kids’ faces as they spotted their family in the audience.

During the curtain call, Bruce slipped his hand into Clark’s, pulling the back of Clark’s to his lips. “Thanks for this,” he murmured, warming Clark from the inside out.

Afterwards, Tim ran up to them in the lobby and Bruce wrapped him in a tight hug. “You did a great job. Clark tells me you helped out with the lights.”

“Helped?” Stuart said, coming up behind them. “The kid ran the whole thing. I didn’t lift a finger.”

“You did?” Clark asked and Tim nodded excitedly. “That’s amazing!”

Cass leaned into Clark’s side, a nervous smile on her face. Ducking down in front of her, Clark made sure to look her in the eye, his voice firm. “You were _wonderful_ , kiddo.”

_Really?_

_Really,_ Clark signed. _Would I lie?_

She shook her head, eyes bright and cheery as she looked to her father.

 _Magnificent. I’m so proud of you,_ Bruce signed.

Cass hugged Clark’s waist, shaking with excitement. Jason and Dick appeared with Duke, chattering excitedly. It was a flurry of babbling no one could really follow but Bruce managed to interject that he was taking them out for ice cream to celebrate.

“Come on,” Bruce said, gathering Tim and Dick in his arms.

They headed for the limo and Clark stayed behind outside the theatre entrance, unsure of what to do with himself. The wind whipped at the lapels of his jacket, the program in his hand wrinkling. Chewing on his lip, he supposed he should head home. He watched Dick and Tim jump up excitedly, telling the story of what happened backstage and talking over each other about fifty times as they did. Smiling, Clark started to return to his car.

Cass turned around, staring at him confusedly.

 _Aren’t you coming?_ Clark offered an awkward smile, scratching at the back of his neck. She frowned. _Clark, ice cream._ She beckoned him forward.

“I just assumed it was a… family thing,” he said slowly as the rest of the kids, Bruce and Alfred turned to see what was keeping Cass. Clark’s eyes rose to meet Bruce’s. Curious, Bruce simply watched as the children did the dirty work.

“C’mon, Thirteen,” Jason pleaded.

_It won’t be as much fun without you._

“You have to come,” Dick said plainly, cocking his head to the side like Clark was being obtuse.

Bruce cocked his head to the side similarly, running a hand through Tim’s hair. There was a smile in his voice, clearly amused, “Yes, you have to come.”

Warming, Clark lowered his head with a nervous laugh. Would he ever stop reacting that way to Bruce? “Well, alright.”

“Yes!” Jason cheered, snagging his hand and dragging him forward.

“Just for a little bit.” He had to jog a little to keep up.

+

On a day like any other, Clark and Jason left the others in the backyard to fetch some water from the kitchen. Alfred had just given Damian a bath after a rather messy lunch break. Jason was talking about what he’d read so far in the Hobbit when Clark stopped dead. His arm crossed over Jason’s chest, heart in his mouth.

Damian was sitting on the floor gazing up at a very tall, much older man. Alfred lay unconscious at their feet, a nasty bruise on his head. The stranger’s eyes were a vibrant green, familiar and burning through Clark threateningly. He reached for Damian.

“Get away from him!” Jason shouted, racing forward before Clark could stop him.

He shoved the man backwards, surprisingly pushing the man back several feet. Damian started crying, reaching up for his brother as the strange man got to his feet. He marched forward, his voice thunderous and cold.

“Crying?” he sneered in disgust, looking to Clark. “My daughter let you people take my grandson and you’ve turned him into a pathetic, whining infant.”

“He’s a _child,_ ” Clark interjected, tense as he kept a watchful eye, his heart pounding. “Jason, take your brother and get him out of here.” Jason scowled, making to go after the man again. “Jason,” Clark demanded, his tone serious and sharp. Jason looked to him. “Outside. Now.”

Jason didn’t object, picking Damian up and hurrying from the room.

The man rushed forward to stop them and Clark shoved him back, taking a punch to the face. His head whipped back, blood filling his mouth as his nose broke. The man appeared decades older than Clark, most likely older than Alfred but he moved like someone several years younger. He whaled on Clark, every blow hitting him like a ton of bricks. Clark’s eye swelled shut, his ribs crying out in protest, rattling in his chest with every sobbing breath.

But, he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t ever stop. He held on even as he found it harder and harder to breathe. He kept holding the man back. An elbow slammed into his chin as the man crowded Clark up against the wall and slammed his fist into his face again and again.

Clark had never been in a fight before, aside from boyhood scraps. He didn’t know how to defend himself – but he knew he had to keep this man from getting to the children. He blocked what he could and did his damndest to stay on his feet. He tasted nothing but blood and salt, struggling to keep breathing as his head slammed into the wall behind him. With a loud roar, the man slammed Clark’s wrist into the wood and shattered his watch face.

Shards of glass sliced the man’s face, distracting him for one merciful second. Clark took advantage of the slip to beat him back and disarm him.

He shoved him roughly, smashing his fist into the man’s face as hard as he could. There was a loud crack, the man’s shock startling Clark for a second. He pressed on, ignoring the twinge in his stomach at the sight of blood, the split lip. Each blow grew easier by the second and he felt more powerful than he ever had before. He forced the man on his back and pulled his arm back.

The man spat out a mouthful of blood, his teeth tinged pink with it. “You don’t understand,” he hissed. “I will keep coming back. Your bat can’t stop me.”

Clark rose up higher, his voice strong and sure. “Maybe not, but I can.”

One last blow and the man went still, unconscious and limp. Clark barely lasted another few seconds before he followed him into darkness.

+

Clark awoke to a steady beep.

His head hurt, but only mildly. His hand ached, as did his nose and chin. He opened his eyes to find a dimly lit room, the soft patter of rain against the windows. He turned his head carefully and found Bruce sitting at his bedside, his hands clasped together. His head pressed to them, eyes closed. There were dark circles beneath them, as though he’d had a few sleepless nights.

As Clark shifted a bit in bed, mouth working uselessly for a moment as he tried to speak. “Hey,” he rasped.

Bruce’s eyes cut to him, sharp and focused. “You’re awake.” His hands came down to cover Clark’s, warm and strong. Clark felt something in him settle, letting out a slow breath. “I don’t know what I would have done if,” his lips brushed the back of Clark’s hand as he held it tightly. He pressed a kiss to his hand, closing his eyes as he rasped, “Thank God, you’re okay.”

Clark tried for a smile. “I’m okay.” At Bruce’s doubtful look, he added, “I’m fine, honestly. I can’t explain it. I won’t be doing cartwheels anytime soon, but I’m okay.” A flash of a memory. “My father’s watch.”

Bruce’s face was drawn as he reached over and set the watch on the side table. “It’s broken. I can find someone to repair it.”

“It wouldn’t be the same,” Clark said sadly, running his hand over the band. The watch face was completely shattered, the silver rim having lost quite a bit of his shine. The sight left his heart heavy, remembering the pride in his father’s eyes when he’d first gifted it to his son. “It’s okay. I think he would understand what happened, given the circumstances.” He looked to Bruce, his voice soft, “I was protecting my family.”

Bruce held his gaze, eyes fierce and bright. “When I arrived, Ra’s had disappeared. When I saw you lying there,” he trailed off, his jaw firming as he shook his head. “He’ll pay for this.”

“Bruce,” he began.

“He will. He thinks he can hide from me. I’ll show him how wrong he is.” Clark squeezed his hand, watching his eyes soften. “Alfred’s okay, by the way. The kids, too. They were pretty shaken up, though.”

“You’ll tell them I’m fine, won’t you?”

Bruce’s brow rose, clearly amused. “That’s cute. You really think I got out of the house alone?”

The door burst open. Jason flew past in a blur of noise and color, his leather jacket cool against Clark’s skin as he wrapped his arms around Clark’s waist and buried his face in his chest. “You didn’t let me protect you,” Jason said, hugging Clark tightly.

Clark stroked his hair carefully. “I’m okay, buddy.”

Tim hung back by the door, Damian held tight in his arms. Dick came up on Clark’s other side, his face drawn. “Really?” he asked in a small voice.

Clark smiled, nodding once. “Really. I’m fine.” Dick nodded even as a tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped at it stubbornly, his smile warming some of the remaining ice in Clark’s bones. Clark pulled him into a hug,

Tim and Damian came closer, the toddler squirming in Tim’s arms as he tried to reach for Clark. Clark offered him a smile until a thought occurred. He looked to Bruce. “Where’s Cass?”

“She stayed home,” Jason said, picking at the blanket as he sat on the edge. “She got scared.”

Tim stood next to the bed, his eyes wide. “Thanks for protecting Damian.”

“Of course,” Clark replied.

Tim looked to Jason, “You, too. You got him out of there.” Jason’s eyes widened, a light flush to his face as he looked from Clark to his brother.

“Uh, yeah, no problem.” He poked Damian’s cheek, fighting a smile. “He may be a little demon but he’s ours.”

“Jason,” Bruce warned and Clark laughed.

“It’s just how he shows affection,” Clark explained.

Damian grabbed at Jason’s hand, leaning back against Tim’s chest. Tim and Dick caught Clark up with everything that happened after Ra’s left. The police showed up and then the ambulance came and took Clark away. Alfred stayed back, watching over Cass when Bruce rode along to the hospital.

Commissioner Gordon showed up to take the kids back to the manor. Bruce stayed behind with Damian, holding him close to his chest as he sat in the chair at Clark’s bedside.

“Bruce, I’ll be fine. You can go home.”

“I know,” Bruce said plainly, settling back in his chair.

Swallowing thickly, Clark settled back in his bed. His eyes grew heavy as he watched Bruce card his fingers through Damian’s hair. As he drifted off, he heard Bruce begin to sing quietly.  
  
+

Bruce helped Clark out of the car and into the Manor after the hospital released him.

Clark was sure there was actual mold growing in his fridge and he was half convinced his mother had hopped a plane, bus or had taken a damn tractor into the city to check on him in person. But, he’d wanted to stop by the manor to check on Cass.

According to Bruce, no one had seen her outside of bed late at night. She was hiding in a place none of the others seemed to know about. Clark bid Bruce farewell on the second-floor landing and headed into the library. He found Cass rather easily, nearly completely hidden by the thick ceiling beam she sat on. Dressed in all black, she easily blended into the shadows.

When Clark sat down across from her, she didn’t raise her head. Arms crossed as she stared at her feet.

Finally, Clark moved in closer. “Hi, Cass.” She didn’t respond. “I’m alright. Still a little sore but, I’ll be all healed up in no time.”

She didn’t respond and Clark added, “So, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Finally, she looked up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. _I saw you._

Clark’s chest tightened. “I’m really sorry about that, sweetheart. It must’ve been really scary.”

_He was a bad man. Like my father._

“Yes, he was a bad man. He came here to try to take your brother back with him.”

She shook her head, her eyes wide and pleading, hands moving almost too fast for Clark to follow. _– Alfred – the blood -- we couldn’t do anything and Damian wouldn’t stop crying. And you were hurt and I couldn’t do anything and I was so selfish_.

Clark moved in closer, trying to catch her attention. “Hey, no, you weren’t. Don’t ever think that. There was nothing you could have done and I wouldn’t have wanted you to get hurt.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, her breathing labored. _No, I was selfish because all I could think about was how much I didn’t want you to go away. I didn’t want you to stop being here to find me_.

Clark pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she cried. Murmuring comforting words, even as his heart sunk like lead inside of him. He’d never seen Cass this upset and the idea that it was all over him made him feel even worse. No matter that there was nothing he could’ve done, or that he’d done everything to keep the children safe, he felt awful to have caused her pain.

“It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always find you. I promise.”

Clark stayed there with her for long enough that the soreness in his body and the stiffness of the beam worsened the ache in his bones. Cass had fallen asleep, snoring softly, her cheek pressed to his chest. He carefully climbed down with her. He started to carry her to her room when she stirred, wiping at her eyes.

_Movie night._

“Oh? I’m sure they’ll understand if you want to go back to sleep.”

 _It’s Dad’s movie night,_ she explained, looking to him intently.

Smiling, he carried her downstairs where everyone had gathered around the television on the couch. Cass sat down between Tim and Dick, accepting the bowl of popcorn. Clark started to say his farewells when Bruce held out a hand, a softness to his face. Everyone else grew quiet, looking from Clark to Bruce and back again.

Swallowing nervously, Clark took Bruce’s hand and sat down between him and Jason.

Alfred watched the entire scene with a curious look his eye. Once everyone was seated, he nodded once and turned on the television. The screen went dark before the title card came up. _“The Mark of Zorro”._

Clark settled in, smiling as Jason sat up excitedly, cramming popcorn into his mouth. Tim slurped at his milkshake, focused intently on the screen. Dick and Cass watched quietly, enraptured by the film. Bruce’s hand slipped into his, twinging their fingers together.

Clark fought to keep his face clear, even as a smile threatened to split it.

+

Summer had truly fled.

It was Friday and the kids were due back to school the following Monday. Clark was playing catch with Jason in the backyard. Cass was inside teaching Damian (and Stephanie) more signs. Tim was getting a jump start on the reading that hadn’t even been assigned yet. Dick was practicing gymnastics in the miniature gym with Duke. It was a rather peaceful day for Clark’s last day of work.

Admittedly, he was rather surprised when Bruce appeared, his suit jacket draped over his arm.

Clark nearly took the ball to the face, blushing as Bruce raised a brow. “Having fun?”

“We were,” Jason began, scowling.

“Hey, buddy. Give us a minute, okay?” Clark asked. Jason considered this for a second before scoffing and heading back inside with an eyeroll.

Bruce watched with amusement, crossing his arms. “Well, the attitude isn’t what I wanted, but he actually listened to you.”

“I told you, we get along pretty well.” He headed over to the nearby bench and sat down. His eyes fell to his bare wrist, feeling rather naked without his father’s watch. “I’m really going to miss him. All of them.”

Bruce nodded, scanning Clark’s face. His eyes sharpened as he asked, “About that, I thought it might be better that you aren’t working for me anymore.”

Clark’s face fell. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

Bruce shook his head, scratching at his brow. “Actually, you did everything right. More so than I could have hoped. I’m pretty sure they like you more than me. Jason certainly does.”

“So, you’re firing me, on my last day, I might add, because I did my job, too well,” he said slowly.

“I’m not firing you. I’m admitting that a part of me isn’t all that sad that the summer is over.”

“Why?”

“Do you know how many times I kicked myself for kissing you that night? You work for me and it’s unprofessional and I couldn’t risk screwing this up. My kids adore you.”

Clark bit down a smile. “Sometimes they do.”

“And forget what the kids would say, if I ruined this; Alfred would never forgive me,” he said with a soft laugh. “And despite all of that, I’ve been counting down the days until I could ask you to go on a date with me.”

Clark bit his lip, leaning in closer. He caught the scent of Bruce’s cologne, drawing him in further. Bruce's eyes darkened, dipping to his mouth briefly before catching his gaze. “Technically, you’ll have to wait another three or so hours. It’s not five o’clock yet,” Clark whispered.

Bruce’s gaze was sharp, his breath misting over Clark’s mouth. He licked his lips, a spark in his eye as Clark followed the motion. “I’ve already broken the rules once.” Clark’s heart beat faster, his fingers sliding closer to Bruce’s on the bench. Close enough to taste. “Wouldn’t want to break them again,” Bruce murmured, standing up smoothly.

Clark blinked, looking to him in confusion, climbing to his feet. The cool air chilled his skin, even as his face burned. “You’re something else, you know that?”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth turned up briefly before he slipped his arm around Clark’s waist and reeled him into a kiss, even dipping him theatrically. Clark laughed into it, the corners of his mouth turning up as Bruce pressed their lips together. That dizzying warmth within him spread outward, burning hotter with every second. Straightening, Bruce kissed him gently once more, his thumb tracing over Clark’s cheek. He stayed there, his head pressed to Clark’s before he pulled back.

He headed back inside without a second look, leaving Clark flushed and a little dazed. Clark touched his lips briefly, fighting to keep the ridiculous smile off his face. He tossed the ball in hand a few times, his blood singing with adrenaline. The way Bruce made him _feel_ \--

Grinning, Clark lost control of his simple toss and the ball rose way too high, above the tallest tree. It was Jason’s favorite ball and he’d be so upset if Clark were to lose it. Clark leapt upwards to catch it, thinking of nothing but the pride on Jason’s face when he’d shown it to Clark for the first time.

He reached out desperately and the ball landed easily in his hand, solid and round. The ball had landed; Clark had not.

He was floating several feet above the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine an AU where, in an attempt to keep him safe, Pa Kent sought out a magical fix to hide his son's abilities. If he found someone who could put a spell on an ordinary object, like a watch, for example. More so based on the DCEU interpretation where Pa Kent was adamant that others not find out about Clark's abilities to keep him safe. 
> 
> So, I hope you all enjoyed it!


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